Johnny and I sat in the courtyard at Osada with our iced green and jasmine teas. The cold hurt my teeth, so I sipped mine much slower.

It was full of young Holešovicites looking professionally trendy. Girls at their laptops strategically revealed their tattoos—and sneaked peeks to catch who was admiring.

A waitress stacked ice coffees and overpriced desserts in the arms of the girl on a Oneboard. She leaned in and zoomed off. Johnny and I looked at each other puzzled.