How did I ever catch that plane? I’m sure everyone asked that. But then, why put a freshly-minted 19-year-old in charge of anything? We had stayed up till 5 the night before spending the last of our kroner at the basement bar. Chris and I unknowingly split a pack of Moons (the Czech version of Capris) and, armed with our dainty smokes and discounted bottle of something local and astringent, carried on in the alley till dawn. We retired shortly after. We all had places to be. Three hours late to wake up and with a plane in an hour and a half, I sprinted through my formative hangover to sound the alarm for anyone who decided to rely on me. People a decade my senior leapt balletically through their hostel doors, hurriedly jamming their things into suitcases, cursing, moaning, some drooling just a bit. Quick goodbyes happened before leaping onto the bus with my over-weighted luggage (who doesn’t need an entire sound system for a one month trip) and an anxious bus ride to the far-off airport on the edge of town. Somehow, struggling with a 70-pound suitcase with broken wheels, I made it to the gate, sweating out whatever remained of last night’s drink that hadn’t been digested yet.“Sir. Have you been drinking?”“No!” I insisted “I mean, not since I woke up!”But it was a Czech airport, at six in the morning, with a prop plane full of Chinese tourists catching a connection somewhere. Dawn was breaking and no one was truly awake. Continue reading →