Bad Luck In Prague - Travel Feature

A personal travel feature. With no budget for exploring the world - boo! - my travel features were written from my own adventures.

Words - Suzy Sims
Previously published on Native.tv http://www.native.tv in 2007
(c) Niche News & Publishing Ltd


BAD LUCK IN PRAGUE

Prague had been my base for approximately two hours. I had my ticket to see a performance of Mozart’s Requiem all ready (Culture Vulture). The hotel was easy to find, pleasantly staffed and well situated. I had spent hours perusing guidebooks and I had a little homemade phrasebook of Czech in case I got stuck. I should have known something was boding.

I even found my way to the nearest Metro stop (Jiřiho z Podĕbrad) on time and without heading off in the wrong direction (although I did esteem myself by promptly walking out the other side and straight past where the trains run. Did this several times). My travel companion was equally surprised, although slightly worried we would miss our stop. I began to get worried and took my purse out with the Metro map inside it, checked we were at the right stop, and we got our connection.

Můstek is an incredibly busy station and people were really pushing to get on, and I mean really pushing. Someone was jabbing me in the small of my back, and I couldn’t move my hands or feet so I just hung on to the person in front of me and tried not to fall over. It would be just my luck that the train would arrive at Namĕsti Republiký and everyone would rush out, leaving my poor unfortunate body in the doorway covered in footprints, while a new herd of commuters charged back onto the train.

We found the Obecni dům (Municipal Hall) without much difficulty and with plenty of time; enough time for at least one delicious Czech beer we decided, and we headed towards the bar. Put my hand in my bag, then in my pockets – no purse. Such an idiot. It must have been stolen on the train. Not happy. Decidedly worried. No cashcard. Took a few deep breaths to try and calm the panic which was rapidly racing through my system. Luckily I only had two British pounds in there.

I tried to look on the bright side, but instead I looked down and saw underwear. It wasn’t so much seeing red as seeing white. My trousers had ripped. I let out a muffled groan and wrapped my coat around me a bit tighter.

Didn’t enjoy the concert as much as I thought I would. Was a little too worried that everyone could see my pants, which I really didn’t want to subject anyone to. I was also wondering as to the fate of my purse, and really wishing I carried a decoy with a rude message in it ("Oi thief! If you read this, you're a twat!") like I always thought I should.

The Municipal Hall is beautiful though, with elegant balconies, carved statues and opulent decoration. We went into the adjoining restaurant where I had spicy goulash and dumplings, which was a lot tastier than I had thought it was going to be.

So we left the Obecni dům and stepped into the cool wintery air. I then promptly tripped over my own feet and the top step, and ended up painfully sitting on the floor. As I sat in my torn trousers on the steps with a sharp pain shooting into my butt and no money for morale-boosting retail therapy, I am reminded of George from C4’s ‘Drop The Dead Donkey’: “Try to think of it less as of an embarrassing humiliation and more of an amusing anecdote.”

I try and fail.

Municipal House