Descent Into Prague/A Very Easy Whore

          Six of us were shuttled from the airport into the city. Five girls and me. It was already late in the morning, and the sunlight seemed strangely bright. “First sun in three weeks,” our program director Lucy joked. I hoped it was a joke, anyway. The buildings I saw varied from new and spotless to falling apart and covered with graffiti. Often the two would be right next to each other. There was a natural, scenic feel to it, too, with evergreen trees all around. The buildings, the trees, the snow on the ground...it actually reminded me of St. Louis. Huh. So that's what I traveled across the world for.

          The city seemed to be at the bottom of a hill, and to get into the heart of it we went down long, winding roads. We followed the curves of the narrow streets, around and around and always down. We finally got into the heart of the city, and that's when my comparison between it and St. Louis fell apart. In every direction, on every street, were five story high buildings connected to each other at the hip. It was like the whole city was one big block of buildings, and every fifty feet or so it would change slightly in design and color, from beige to pale yellow to light green. It all kind of looked the same to my untrained eye. I had a feeling I'd be getting lost at some point in the near future.

          The girls were all dropped off at their apartments, and then I was taken to mine, which was a couple minutes down the road. Lucy and I went inside the complex, up to the fourth floor. I feel like I have to mention that Lucy looks like a European version of Kendra Wilkinson (I'm kind of ashamed to know who that is, but still). She opened the door to the apartment and we walked in. I was surprised at how large and modern it was. Everything was really nice, except for the bathroom, which was about the size of my suitcase. Not a big deal, though.

          Lucy and I sat down, and she started handing me papers and maps and cards. I'd been up for 24 straight hours, and my brain was completely gone by that point. I couldn't think straight or pay attention to what Lucy was saying. She had the map out and was pointing at it and talking: “...a whore. You will find a whore here. Tomorrow at 10 a.m,” she said. I tried to look at the map to see this magical place, but there were too many lines and colors and it all blurred together. “Very easy,” she said. “Right, then right. Tram for five minutes, walking ten. Or no tram. Just walking. Here is a whore. Very easy.”

          I took her word for it. She handed me the keys to the apartment and left. I sat down on the couch. My roommates weren't there yet, and because of a snowstorm, no one was sure when they would be. I got up and opened the refrigerator. No food. I looked in my wallet. No Czech money. I had no internet and no phone. I had been in a foreign country for less than an hour, and now I was completely alone. Christ.

          I debated going out and exploring the city, but I knew if I went further than a block from my apartment, I wouldn't be able to get back. I get lost in St. Louis and Tempe all the time and I've lived in both places for years, so I had no chance of finding my way in Prague. In the end, I decided to “test” my bed. I lay down, jacket and jeans still on. I fell asleep within seconds.   

The State Of My Pants

           I stepped into the plane, and shit, it was nice. Each seat was off by itself, with plenty of leg room. The seats looked like things you'd buy from IKEA, round and curvy and futuristic. So the rumors I'd heard were true- international planes really were much better than domestic. Then, a flight attendant in front of me said, “Champagne or mimosas?” to one of the passengers, and it started to sink in. First class. Right. I walked past them, and I saw seats with not quite as much leg room, but they were still an improvement over any flight I'd been on. Not happening- my seat was even further back. I passed through a doorway, and the cabin opened up into what looked like one of those chicken coops you'd see in a documentary on vegetarianism, where a thousand chickens are crammed into tiny metal cages. Yeah, this was the place for me.

           I found my seat in the back corner of the plane. A few minutes later, a charming German(?) woman sat down beside me. She showed me her ticket. “Right?” she asked. I nodded my head. “Fanks, fanks,” she said. It was her favorite word, and she was always smiling and saying it in response to anything. That, or, “I don't speak English.” But after she figured out that this was her spot, she dragged in a suitcase that took up about 2/3 of our combined leg room. It was almost as big as my checked bag. I said something like, “So where do your legs go?” She just crossed one over the other, angling them out into the aisle. If she wanted to spend eight hours sitting like that, I guess I wasn't gonna complain.

           Eventually, a flight attendant came by and told her the obvious- the bag needed to be moved. So I helped her dislodge it (it was jammed in between the two rows) and hoisted it into the storage bins above. “Fanks, fanks,” she said, smiling. I'll definitely have to learn the word for “thanks” in Czech- I think you can make friends just by saying it over and over.

          After that, I sat back down and leaned forward to get a book from my backpack. The lady in front of me plopped down in her seat, smashing the tray table into my head. Before I could even lift my head up, she was reclining her seat further into me. That's pretty much how the rest of the flight went. I got my meal, and was somehow able to maneuver ten items, plus a can of coke, in very little space. I didn't spill or drop anything, which was kind of miraculous. Once I finished and handed the flight attendant my dishes, though, she asked me if I wanted anything else to drink. Of course I said yes. I got greedy. Big mistake. She brought me back a glass of orange juice. Two minutes later, the juice was dripping down my pants and onto my belongings. Just great. Naturally, nobody came around for about fifteen more minutes, so I just let it soak in.

          Then, I realized that there were probably paper towels in the bathroom. I also hadn't gone in a long time. Two for one. So I got up, slid around my German friend, and walked towards the bathroom, my pants still wet with juice. I went into the bathroom, and first things first, started peeing. At which point, there was turbulence. A lot of turbulence. I looked down at my jeans. Oh well. More orange juice stains.

          I sopped up as much liquid as I could with the paper towels, and headed back to my seat. I'm sure I was quite...fragrant. That's the way it goes, I guess. I settled in and watched the Social Network (Incredible, can't believe I didn't see it sooner) and read the Tender Bar (very good, especially for a memoir). Sleep? Uh, fanks but no fanks.