This afternoon, we along with our anti-comrade comrades marched in honor of the Velvet Revolution. We met up with some friends at Palackeho Namesti and waited for the streets to fill. I finished my coffee and everyone threw down their money just in time to see it pass. So we ran out and joined in. We didn't have any tiny flags but we still shook our keys with the best of them and walked along the Vltava through all the closed down streets.
I must admit I felt a bit special walking along the tram lines while one of the few ghostly running trams waited and waited for us. I almost made the bell noise and didn't yield to pedestrians.
Usually a parade strikes fear in my heart of all the crowds, blocked streets, and enthusiastic and sappy signs. But today I couldn't deny the moment; the faces were happy, children were on shoulders, and everywhere people were kissing and cheering and drinking. On the pavement announcers announced. From what I could tell, two women were promising to set-off miniature hot air balloons at succinct intervals from what may or may not have been Vaclav Havel's apartment. In any case, it was eye-catching. The march ended on Narodni Trida near the National Theater and there were promises of a huge concert. No one was moving and in sardine style we got to know our immediate neighbors more intimately. A huge red puppet of the devil ran through the crowd; I paused, got the symbolism, said "dekuji Prague! Enjoy your evening!" and turned quickly down a narrow side path and escaped the masses. We skipped on "Monkey Business" and the other Slavic troubadours and ran through the wet paths home.
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