“Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living it so badly.” ~Paulo Coelho
Knowing Paris was one of the larger cities I was going to
visit, I figured I wanted an extra day to explore. My tour with WSA didn’t
start until Friday morning, but I went ahead and paid a little extra for an
extra night in the hostel.
Booking my airfare to Paris was a bit of a surprise. If I
haven’t shared this before, I found a flight to Paris for $98 USD. It was a
5:45 departure (literally the first plane out of Prague Ruzyne Airport that
morning) but I figured $98 bucks was a steal. It wasn’t until after I clicked
“confirm” on the non-refundable charge to my credit card, that I discovered it
was a one way ticket.
Booking a one-way ticket back to Prague was not as cheap.
The illustrious airline I was flying on to Paris was called
“Smart Wings.” Based out of the Czech Republic, this company is about as
organized as a bunch of lemurs dog-piling over a cliff. Similar to well-known
cheap airlines (such as Ryanair, which does not fly in or out of the Czech
Republic) it offers cheap seats with no additional services. One of those
additional services that was cut out was online check-in. The policy stated
that you must check-in, in-person no sooner than 2 hours but no later than 90
minutes before your flight.
So as I did the math, two hours before my 5:45 flight was
3:45. Knowing that it takes 90 minutes to get to the airport, and factoring in
30 minutes in case I missed one of my two transfers, I figured I should leave
the dorm by 2:00 to get there.
Packing up last night, I went to bed around 10:30, with my
alarm set for 1:30 so I could get the 2:00 tram. Aaron was skyping a friend
from back home and moved out to the kitchen to continue his chat. I hadn’t gone
to bed this early in a while, and it took me a bit to relax and drift off.
About midnight, a loud clap of thunder jolted me awake. It
was the type of clatter that echoes for several seconds and makes the window
panes vibrate. We’ve been having thunderstorms on and off for the last three or
four days now, but nothing this late or this violent. I could hear the rain
pounding the pavement outside. Within seconds, there was a flash of light
followed by another loud boom.
I tried to get back to sleep, but the storm didn’t let up.
After about half an hour of laying still with my eyes closed, I gave up. It was
12:45. I knew the storm would let up eventually, but I didn’t know if
“eventually” meant by 2:00. In the event that I missed one of my
transfers—trams and buses could either leave early or run late due to the
storm—I wasn’t sure I wanted to stand out in a thunderstorm waiting for the
next one.
I pulled out my Rick Steve’s travel guide. In it, he had a
section on taking taxis in Prague. He said that while Prague cabbies have a
reputation for over active meters, he has personally not had any trouble using
them. According to him, average rates are 29KC/ kilometer plus a pick-up fee
and waiting fee. I used GoogleMaps and found the airport. By my guestimate I
was looking at about 790kc (roughly $40 USD).
I waited for a bit, but the storm didn’t let up. My parents
were still online, so I Skyped my Dad to see what he thought. His suggestion
was just to make sure I knew the fair before I got in.
When Aaron came in the room to grab something, I asked him I
could use his cell phone. He gave it to me, and I called City Taxi for a 2:30
pickup.
Now that I was awake, I spent some time going through my bag
to make sure I had everything. It seemed so much lighter than when I’d gone on
other trips. Either I’m getting better at this, or I’m forgetting a ton of
stuff.
I wrapped my ankle to give it some support, and put on my
shoes. Zipping up my jacket, I headed out to wait for the taxi. The thunder had
subsided, but it was still a pouring rain. I stood in front of the building
under the canopy, waiting for the taxi to pull up in the circle drive.
I saw a car out of the corner of my eye driving around the
neighborhood off to the side of the dorm. It looped around behind the building.
Pretty soon, it came back around and parked. It was clearly lost.
I checked my watch and saw that it was almost 2:30. The car
had stalled out, and briefly restarted its engine. The sound caught my eye, and
I looked back up. I could faintly make out yellow letters on the window. It was
a taxi.
I walked over towards it, just as it started to pull away.
Waving my hand, the driver stopped and rolled down his window.
“Dobry den,” I said, which is the formal Czech greeting for
people you don’t know.
“Dobry den,” he said. “Zachary?”
“Yes,” I smiled and nodded.
He pulled out his radio and said something into it in Czech.
I climbed into the back seat.
“Terminal two,” I said.
“Airport?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “How much will that cost?”
“I don’t know,” he said. His English was pretty broken.
“Probably 550 minus or plus.”
“Perfect!” I said.
We started driving.
Pulling out of the parking lot, we quickly accelerated down
the road. Odd instrumental music was playing on the radio and it felt like the
soundtrack to some sort of action movie chase scene. As the car went faster and
faster, the music felt more and more appropriate. Despite being the only
vehicle on the road, we were changing lanes frequently—apparently to pass cars
that weren’t there.
Suddenly, he slapped on the breaks. With wet road, I thought
we were going to hydroplane right into a building. We didn’t, and he carefully
pulled off a hairpin turn.
I’d been in this neighborhood before, but I had no idea it
led towards the airport. I could still make out several landmarks in the
skyline, so I knew we were going the right way.
Back in the first weeks I got to Prague, I’d heard a story
about a guy who took a taxi and wound up being kidnapped and led to the
basement of an abandoned hotel, were some men beat him and stole his money.
For whatever reason, this story chose to come to the front
of my mind right now.
Within minutes, we were crossing over a bridge, just a
little bit north of the Charles Bridge. Our speed still felt unusually fast. On
one hand, I appreciated his dedication to get me to the airport without wasting
time. On the other hand, something about it felt very ominous.
A few minutes later, we pulled off another wheel squeaking
turn and were in some strange neighborhood. The streets were dark and some of
the houses boarded up. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I curled my
fingers around the strap of my backpack. Placing my thumb on the button of seat
belt, I braced myself to be able to get out of the car in case this adventure
took an odd turn.
It crossed my mind that I really didn’t have anything to
worry about. This guy had nothing to gain by kidnapping me or even mugging me.
All of my money was well hidden so even if he took my wallet and my bag, I had
taken precautions that I’d still have access to my accounts and all he’d get
away would be some grubby clothes. But this guy worked for the second largest
cab company in the Czech Republic. They had reputation, and he had an employee
ID number on the window. These seemed fairly legit.
The roads of the neighborhood were paved with asphalt and
looked much like suburban America. We took right turn after left turn. It
didn’t feel like we were making circles, but I would have no idea how to
retrace my way out of there.
Suddenly, we made a sharp turn and were back on a main road.
Looking around, I instantly recognized the view; we were in the bus depot. The
neighborhood had actually been a short cut instead of looping down by the
theater like the buses do.
The next several miles of the drive were familiar to me. The
odd “chase music” ended and an American song came on the radio. I couldn’t
place it at first, but then I realized it was the Friends theme song (“I’ll be There for You.”) There were also more
cars on this road. Now, the rapid lane changes made sense and we were passing
everybody left and right. A few of the other cabbies were equally as aggressive,
and I’m pretty sure we were playing chicken in a couple of construction zones.
We were soon on the
highway heading towards the airport. A blue sign came into view that said the
exit to Ruzyne was six kilometers ahead. As soon as we saw the sign, the cab
driver took an exit. This definitely was not the six kilometers ahead that the
sign had referred to—it might not have even been 10 meters.
We were soon on a little, two lane road in the middle of an
agricultural field. There were no lights anywhere to be seen. We drove in
complete darkness, and I couldn’t help but notice the radio was back to creepy
instrumental music. When we came to a T-crossing in the road, we did yet
another hair-pin turn and were now on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
This felt creepy again.
Within a couple of minutes, a red light popped up on the
horizon. As we got closer, I could make it out as the control tower from Ruzyne
airport. We turned back onto a paved road, and within just minutes, were at
Terminal 2.
The driver parked the car in front of the door. Tallying up
the meter, he showed it to me. “Five-hundred and fifteen.”
That was 200 crowns cheaper than I had planned on paying!
Rick Steve’s encouraged tipping, especially if you felt like the price was
fair. I probably over tipped him, giving him six hundred KC total (30USD) but I
felt like he had done a good job—I couldn’t help but notice his English
improved significantly once I gave him the tip.
As I walked through the doors of the airport, I realized
that while the tram/metro/bus route to the airport is 90 minutes, a taxi ride
is only 25.
I was at the airport for my 5:45 flight…and it was 2:55.
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