Where in the world...?

For those of you who may not know me but enjoy living vicariously through my posts and pictures, here is a little information about me. I am one who, for the most part, simply goes with the flow. Yes, I may plan a little bit when it comes to travel, but not extensively. It made my mom very happy to know that I would be with McKinley who knows exactly where we will eat lunch three days in advance.

For those of you who know me well, this won't come as a surprise to you. I knew we would be traveling to Prague, Czech Republic, but I didn't know the CR was considered Eastern Europe until the bus dropped us off at the station. Where had I gotten myself into? The Lonely Planet's Western Europe guide book stayed in the apartment for those three days. It's fine. Casual.

Despite my minimal (nonexistent) preparation for Eastern European culture, Prague quickly became a contender for my favorite city. Even considering the rain and gloom of a European January, the red roofs, bell tower, castle, and cheap food (I mean cheap; we made six meals for 8 euro!!) made me fall in love with this city whose culture and language was so different from anything I had ever experienced. It's still one of my favorite countries despite our final minutes in Prague.

~I don't deserve any, and I mean any, sympathy for the story that is to follow~

As college kids we try to be...frugal. In the context of this story, saying we were being "frugal" is being generous, but I'll let you choose your own words. Metros are different in Europe; you have to buy a ticket and then validate it with a time stamp. There aren't any gates between you and the metro, so if you're feeling extra gusty, you can walk right on.

McKinley and I bought a ticket the first day, and didn't validate them...fast forward three days. 

We are about to leave the metro, 100 meters from our bus which will whiz us off to Austria when we are stopped by the meanest, least sympathetic man I have ever met. He asked for our tickets (which we luckily still had) and then our passports when he saw our tickets weren't validated. "Follow me," he said through a clenched jaw. The seconds that followed passed like hours. 

He pointed to the English sign: Validate Your Ticket. Then he motioned to the fine print of the ticket. And it was at this point that I realized no amount of "playing dumb" or begging would help us. Without a single Korona in our pockets, we had to take 2000 out of the ATM to pay our fine. He then thanked us and pointed us in the right direction. The irony of his lack of sympathy juxtaposed with his kindness in showing us the way. 

The moral of the story, Europeans already hate Americans enough so go ahead and validate your metro ticket. You can bet that we validated our tickets the moment we set foot in Austria's metro...and explored an abandoned amusement park.