+48° 35' 0.62", +7° 44' 16.42"

When I get back to the Hotel Mercure Strasbourg Quartier St. Jean, three of the Rabbit Warriors are sitting in the sidewalk cafe outside.

"Zere he is!" calls out Bendedikt when he sees me. "Ze steward of ze empire!"

"Did you sleep in ze BierWagen?" asks Manuel.

"Ah!" says Andreas, "Ze perfect cure for jet lag! Sit down and join us for breakfast, bro. Ve are drinking Strasbourg beer! Vill you have vun?"

"Vait, vait," says Manuel. "Ve must randomize ze trial!"

"You try ze salicylic acid," says Andreas, and they all make that sound again, that pseudo-laughter.

From inside my hangover, I watch them laugh, or pretend to laugh, or mock the very idea of laughter. I have no idea what the joke is about, but I start laughing too.

"Another line from XKCD?" I say.

"Yah, yah," says Manuel. "Ze vun about ze acne medicine. Have you seen it?"

"No... not exactly," I say. "I'll... I'll have some... coffee."

I think about ordering breakfast, but I decide that's not a good idea, not yet. All I really want to do is go up to my room and take a shower. But I figure I'd better talk to these guys for a minute, and find out if I did anything really embarrassing last night. They assure me that by their standards, my behavior was kind of tame. I ask them about the Danish girls. Benedikt punches me in the arm.

"Zose vere not Danish girls!" he says.

They all laugh, make funny faces and point at me. I decide not to purse the matter any further.

Just then Bruno comes out from the lobby. He seems very upset.

"Have you seen Henry ?" he says.

"No," I say. "I... just got here..."

"It's all your fault," he says. "Bertha blames you. And she's right. You should never let them sleep together.'

"What?" I say.

"All they do is fucking fight the next day. Henry's gone. He's gone."

"What about Conrad?" I say. I don't know why I'm so worried about the little brat, but I am. I mean, he's a kid.

"Right now, let's see, the Duke of Lower Lotharingia, oh yes, he's throwing a tantrum in the lobby," says Bruno. I look in through the glass door. Amid the reflections of the street I catch glimpses of the little boy swinging a shopping bag, whopping it hard against the front desk.

"Don't vorry about him," says Benedikt, standing up.

"Yah," says Andreas.

"Ve know how to play vith little dukes," says Manuel.

And before I know it, the Rabbit Warriors have rushed into the lobby. Next thing I see (when a big black truck goes by and darkens the window) is Conrad on Benedikt's shoulders, throwing something at the other RKS guys. He seems to be having fun.

Sometimes a hangover gives you a real Zen-like attitude towards life's problems. Like now. There seemed to be a crisis, but because I'm hungover, I didn't do a damn thing, and now it's all better.