June 19-21 - Prague 1 - now with Jim Ross

Jim Ross. The name raises the hairs on the back of your neck. When John, Evan, and I got off at the Holesovice train station in Prague one fateful afternoon, we had no idea what was in store for us. Standing on the platform innocently, we were approached by a man who somehow knew all of our names and knew exactly when we were arriving. That man was Jim Ross.

Jim Ross might be a secret agent; no one really knows for sure. But when he took us to his third floor spacious apartment above some sricetastic club that the mafia probably owns, we knew not to cross him.

Jim took us to a restaurant with great microbrews and meat plates, then to the center of the old town to watch the first Eurocup quarterfinal between Germany and Portugal. Finally, he led us to a bar, drank with us, and skipped town. Seriously. The next morning, John, Evan, and I woke up and had the apartment to ourselves, with Jim already in Austria and after that, who knows. One thing is for certain - the following conversation took place Friday morning at 8am with Jim in bed just minutes before he vanished:

Me: Jim, what time are you supposed to be at the train station?
Jim: 8:15.
Me: Here. (handing him my watch)
Jim: ...Fuck.

Moments later he was gone, leaving John, Evan, and I to do Prague the only way we know how: thunderously.