

Prague- Early Winter

Good Will Hunting style- "I had go see about a girl." I arrived in Prague,style- "I had go see about a girl."





I’m thinking there aren't going to be a lot of low income students/ tourists around in the sub-zero temperatures, so if I stay in a hostel style dormitory, my powers of deduction lead me to conclude the following advantages.

Ever the optimist, I imagine I’ll end up spending the night at her place very quickly, and paying the ultra-cheap hostel price, I’d avoid the stinging financial loss of purchasing a nice hotel room and not using it. 1)Ever the optimist, I imagine I’ll end up spending the night at her place very quickly, and paying the ultra-cheap hostel price, I’d avoid the stinging financial loss of purchasing a nice hotel room and not using it.

I might pay for just the one dormitory bed, and get the whole room to myself. 2)I might pay for just the one dormitory bed, and get the whole room to myself.

It’s even likely I’ll get the whole room to myself! After all, only an idiot would visit Prague this time of year. 3)It’s even likely I’ll get the whole room to myself! After all, only an idiot would visit Prague this time of year.

Night #1- one other person in the big room. A quiet Danish girl. I’m a genius! There’s no other word for it.

hostel room- image twice as large as actual size



Night #2- I get back to the hostel- LOUD noise coming from every direction. There's a party downstairs, seven drunk Spaniards at 1 AM, their alcohol induced yells so loud emailing my family to tell them I'm "fine" becomes nearly impossible, as it would be, purely, a lie.

I pray they aren't staying in my dorm room. I go upstairs, backpacks are all over, but I'm the only one there. Fuck.

beep bwoop beep," rather than take it outside like a considerate person, or just anyone looking to avoid death. I climb into bed, just as I'm falling asleep a buzz cut Spaniard walks in remarking, "What a party," then proceeds to spend two minutes drunkenly jiggling his key in his locker, pulls his cell phone out, sits down on his bed, and begins to text; "," rather than take it outside like a considerate person, or just anyone looking to avoid death.

Just as I'm about to say something he puts his phone down. Okay, go to sleep dude.





Careful what you wish for. The moment his head hits his mattress he starts snoring like a chainsaw. It's cartoonishly loud. I pound my fist down into my bunk in frustration.

Moments later, a huge Galoot barges through the door drunk, tripping over his own suitcase, falling onto my lower bunk, using a combination of the mattress and my body to break his fall. Rolling off me he hits the floor with a thud. For a moment I'm actually elated-- the commotion might have woken Chainsaw.

No such luck. Come to think of it, I'm not sure the Big Bang could wake-up Chainsaw, because in all likelihood, no one could hear it over his snoring.

But Galoot is momentarily captivated by the snores, almost admiring the volume and dissonant nature before he breaks out into laughter, stating, "My God he's loud. Do you hear that?"

"Deaf people in Rio De Jainero can hear that," I retort, shaking my head.

"Sorry about falling on you," he states, as he turns on the light, forcing my head under the covers from the bright glare while he searches for something, then exits the room slamming the door, considerately leaving on the light.





Spaced an ideal twenty minutes apart, just enough time for me to doze off just slightly, the Spaniards file into the room, rousting about, looking for their toothbrushes and what-not in their drunken stupor. I don't know what to say, I signed up for this.

The last person enters the room at 4:20 AM. Twenty minutes later I actually am so tired, Chainsaw becomes white noise in the background, and I drift away into a light sleep.





At that seeming exact moment, a hysterical girl bursts into the room and softly yells, with fear in her voice, "You have to help me!"

OH MY GOD, what could possibly be happening. Is someone after her? A burglar, a rapist? I jump up.

Me: "What’s the matter?!"

Her: "The bedding, it is so old. It's so uncomfortable, you have to help me!"

I take a beat to process what she said, making sure I didn't perhaps mishear her in my sleepless haze. I didn't.

get out." Me: "We get what we pay for don’t we. Now close the door, and."





She does so without a word. It feels like I'm in some horror movie, with the ax murderer scripted to come in next. My forehead falls to the mattress as I await my fate. I sniff the sheets. She's right, this bedding really is old.



