Blogger is SPEAKING TO ME IN CZECH

1 Day In, 110 Days Out

What happened on Thursday night? I heard about Tropical Storm Danny. I spent Thursday night and Friday morning hoping to scurry out of the U.S. before the tropical storm got too intense. What happened Friday? I got through security in record time and reached the gate with 2 hours to spare. Plus or minus. The streak remains unbroken. Apparently the trouble never hits me en route to gate. It's only AT said gate or on the plane when the S hits the F.

Luckily, this trip flies smooth sailing all the way to Prague. On board, buckled in, we hear the captain over the intercom.

Captain H: "Ha-hem. Flight time today will only be six hours and thir-ty minutes..." (Long pause)

"...which is really good...."

Yeah, no shit. They allotted 8 hours for the flight, and even taking into consideration taxi-ing on both sides of the journey..

"...This is due to a favorable wind over the Atlantic."

(I wonder if that had anything to do with the tropical storm.)

"...However, those of you who have flown to Dusseldorf before know that the airport does not open until 6:00 a.m. So we have to go sit in a vacant parking lot for about an hour before we can take off."

It was ok, though. This Captain Holt, or whatever his name was, sounded just like Roger Federer, so I was very willing to forgive him. Was the Tropical Storm fun, by the way? I would love to know what happened to West Campus, which has been called "One Giant Puddle" on occasion. Many a time by me.

The guy on my right kept asking for white wine, at one point, even going to the "kitchen" to fetch it himself. The entire time I'm sitting there breathing in wine, I'm chanting to myself, "Bílé víno. Bílé víno"--which is the czech phrase for white wine. The foreign immersion begins. It gets worse. Having taken French for a couple years, I figured the phrase for 'white wine' should still be in there somewhere. NOPE. Fail.

Before getting to Prague, I stumble off the plane in Dusseldorf, Germany, bathed in the aromas of white wine, looking for my transfer. Thus, we have the following story:

Felicia gets owned by the Dusseldorf bathrooms

Obstacle #1: The Flush

By far the most admonishable oversight. Large button on the wall. Button is divided by a curlie-q horizontally. Press on button. Button does not press. It's a button! It should pressable throughout its surface area! If it'll only flush for certain parts of the button, you should label it as such. Hmph.

Obstacle #2: The Soap

Very strange contraption consisting of a black metal-type bar sitting close to the wall. Not well-oiled, and did not seem to want to budge under slight pressure. Scene: me. twisting and craning my neck at awkward angle to peer up at soap dispenser. old lady. watching me.

Obstacle #3: The Paper Towel Machine

Paper towel dispenser, only with thick, luxurious paper towel and no discernable.... end. Picture a paper towel coming up, only to wrap snugly underneath and around the dispenser before disappearing into unknown crevice inside dispenser. Naturally, I began to look for the end, right. Course of action, pull. Slight pressure produces no results. (Apparently I'm timid. All of my first forays are slight) Finally, turn around and ask old woman, still watching me, whether she knows how to work the paper towels. Old Woman replies No. I'm relieved Old Woman even speaks English. She walks up to the dispenser, considers it for a moment, and pulls down on the end of the paper towels NOT where the end should be.

"You're just supposed to wipe your hands," she says in a satisfied way. "It rotates the paper towels automatically."

I watch as the now-wet paper towels rotate up and out-of-sight into the back of the dispenser. I now note that the trash can underneath the dispenser is empty. No paper towels. Why is there even a trash can???

And just think. That was still Western Europe. Western-ish.