As it turns out, there’s one more story to tell about my trip to Prague. Mostly because — as fans of the blog will know by now — none of these blogs seems to be complete unless they close with a story of me running like a bat out of hell to catch an airplane…
This entry starts a few weeks before my departure, as I’m browsing the shops and frequenting the bars of Old Town. I notice — both at the shops and at the bars — a drink that they won’t let us have in North America. Occasionally known as “The Green Fairy” and “A drink that will kick you in the ass nine ways to Sunday”, I’m talking about Absinthe.
I don’t know if the stories of hallucinogenic properties are true or not… but I’m curious what all the hype is about. Plus, if you know me, you know that I’m not one to decline an adventure, especially if there is alcohol and general silliness involved.
So, I decide that the one souvenir I’m going to bring back for myself is a really nice bottle of Absinthe. Traditional European, mess you up if you drink too much Absinthe.
Now, Prague isn’t in Canada, the land of the ridiculously large alcohol tax, so a really nice bottle wasn’t too expensive — 540 crowns (or about $30) to be precise.
Now, I’m sure none of you will believe this next part. On the day of my departure from Prague, I actually arrived early at the airport. It’s true. I am as shocked as you are. But there I was, at the airport two hours early for my flight.
Not sure what happened. It was a weird freak of nature. But, heck, since I’m two hours early I figure why don’t I check in and then I can grab myself some overpriced crappy food before I take off.
Which is exactly what happens: Perfectly smooth check in. Crappy, overpriced lunch.
It’s odd. And a little unnerving. I have time to check my email. And charge my computer.
I even have time to go to that silly booth and get a refund on my VAT tax. (FYI – For those of you who don’t know, VAT is a European tax, like Canada’s GST, that tourists can get a partial refund for.) And, at the same kiosk, I convert all of my Czech crowns to US dollars.
Now, I get screwed royally with the exchange rate, but I figured, heck, where am I going to be able to change Czech crowns at home?
So, with a full belly and a small fistful of US dollars, I’ve got about 45 minutes before my flight takes off, so I make my way through customs… and then it’s on to security.
I’ve put my laptop in a separate bin, taken off my belt and my shoes, sent my bag through the x-ray machine and I walk on through the metal detector.
Not even a beep on my button fly. Life is good.
“Excuse me, sir. Is this your bag?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You cannot bring this large bottle of alcohol with you in your carry on bag. It will need to go into your checked luggage.”
SON OF A %$^^%* B!₮€H!!!!!
Now, at this point, I’ve got about 34 minutes before my plane takes off. With a quick calculation, I figure that gives me about 20 minutes to go out, check the bottle onto the plane and get back through to board my plane.
Totally doable.
For the sake of organization, let’s call it T minus 20.
I talk my way back thru security. And then back thru customs. That takes 3 minutes. T minus 17.
And then I show up at the airline check-in counter.
“Hi. I forgot to put this in my luggage and I need to check it.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t retrieve your luggage, there isn’t enough time. You could put it in another bag and check that — but you’ve already checked two bags so, if you’d like to do that, it will cost you 3000 Czech crowns.”
“WHAT? The bottle only cost me 540 crowns.”
“I’m sorry sir, there’s nothing we can do, you’ve already –”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. What about something else?”
Again, she tells me there’s nothing.
Well, I didn’t believe that. And so I argued with her for about another 2.5 minutes. And then came my last question to her:
“Is there a Fedex or a shipping service that I can use. Something? Anything?”
“Well, there’s a post office downstairs.”
“Post office? Why didn’t you say so 4.5 minutes ago???”
T minus 12.5 minutes.
I take the stairs two at a time, I rush around the corner, expecting —
Well, not a tiny windowed booth with a beaten up sign that says “Post Office”, that’s for sure.
But I’ve got 11.5 minutes.
“Hi I need to ship this bottle to Canada. How much is a box? And do you have any of those peanut, packing things”
“Oh. Nono.”
“Nono?”
“No. No box for buying.”
“No box for — You’ve got to have something. Anything. I’ve got to catch a flight and I’m — c’mon. PLEASE!”
“I give you this?”
A white 8 x 10 envelope.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
But that’s all Post Office Lady’s got. And so I take it. Because, somewhere in my wee little pea brain, I think — wait, the bottle will almost fit in there. With a load of tape, this just might work.
Plus, at this point, my options are: a) leave the bottle or b) try to make the envelope work.
I chose b.
Now… If I just had some paper or something to protect the bottle with.
“Got a newpaper?” I ask Post Office Lady.
“Nono paper. Go there.”
She points me to a newspaper box nearby. Ahh… If only I still had some Czech coins left!
But I don’t. Crap.
Now wait a second. I’m smart. I’m educated. I can figure something out.
And then I look down and see my neck pillow.
Which is full of soft cushiony stuffing.
Hmmm… That might work.
T minus 10 minutes.
I open the zipper and start ripping.
I borrow a roll of tape from Post Office Lady.
And then proceed to use it all on my foolish looking package.
It’s a big puffy envelope that is only closed because of the massive wad of tape.
I look at my watch. T minus 7.5 minutes.
It’s almost panic time!
The package is good enough. I’ve got to catch this plane.
“Ok, Post Office Lady, here’s the package. How much will it cost.”
“560 Crowns.”
If you’ve been paying attention, you know that this is 20 crowns more than it cost me to buy the bottle. It’s also about $30. Any way you slice it, it’s a stupid sum of money for me to pay.
But after all this, I’m not giving up on my bottle of Absinthe.
It’s now a matter of pride. I hand her my credit card.
And, silly me, there I was, bottle packaged, ready to race to my gate, thinking that my streak of bad luck had ended.
Like I said — silly me.
“We no take credit card. Cash only”
“OK. How much is that in US dollars?”
“No US dollars. Czech crowns only.”
You’ve got to be shitting me!
T minus 7 minutes. I still have to go back thru customs and security. And the nearest place to get Czech crowns from my US dollars is upstairs — at the VAT kiosk where I changed all of my Czech crowns one hour ago!!!
And in that moment, I decide quite clearly that it may be wise for me to give up on this quest… BUT I AM NOT GIVING UP WITHOUT A FIGHT!!!
I am sending this bottle to Canada if it kills me.
And it just might.
Up the stairs I race.
To the VAT kiosk. And, in 30 seconds, I learned how quickly your money disappears if you get screwed by an exchange rate coming and going.
The 1800 original crowns that I changed into 75 US dollars came back to me as 900 crowns.
But I don’t have time to care. T minus 5 minutes.
I race back downstairs, toss 600 crowns at the Post Office Lady with a “GASP… GASP… Please be sure to put fragile stickers all over the package… GASP… GASP… I’ve got to catch my plane.”
And, gulping air the whole way, I was back up the stairs to customs.
Thankfully, an agent recognized me from 17 minutes before and let me go through with a wave of my passport.
T minus 2 minutes.
Up another set of stairs and suddenly — over the loud speaker —
“Passenger Darminge flying to Toronto, Canada, final boarding call.”
And as I’m racing down the hall, I’m thinking, “What the f&*k, my name is Slovak — as in Czechoslovak — if anyone in the world should know how to pronounce it, it should be you guys!!!!
And that brings me to — a screeching halt.
In 18 minutes the security line has become HUGE.
But it’s okay… I can handle this.
Through my gasps I sweet talk my way to the front of the line. It helps that they are paging my name over the loudspeaker. And that I probably look like I’m about to have a heart attack.
It doesn’t help that, as soon as I get through security, I hear:
“Passenger Darminge flying to Toronto, Canada, this is your final call. Your luggage will be removed from the plane”.
I figure I’ve got about 60 seconds before they close the doors and I’m stuck in Prague sans a plane ticket home.
Alright. I just need to get to my gate.
I look up at the signs. To the left. One last gasp of air and I’m off.
But only for twenty steps…
Because what I see almost makes me lose my lunch.
The sign above my head now says “Section T. Gates 60 – 90. 8 minutes”
It’s an 8 MINUTE walk to my gate.
OH MY GOD!!!
But, I’d come this far. There was no point in stopping now…
Plus, if I sat there staring at that stupid sign there was NO way that I’d make this plane.
And I take off again. Dodging pedestrians. Leaping carts. Sliding down banisters instead of taking the stairs.
And nearly collapsing from my effort…
I made it to the gate. Just as the gate attendant was starting to close the doors.
I MADE IT.
I was a sweaty, gasping mess. But I made it.
I’m just glad that I wasn’t sitting beside me for the 8 hour flight. ‘Cause I’m sure I did not smell pretty when I sat down.
And as I closed my eyes and leaned against the cool window, heart still beating out of my chest I thought — Man-o-man I just risked a heck of a lot on a $30 bottle of alcohol…
AND I HAVE NO IDEA IF IT WILL EVER EVEN SHOW UP IN CANADA.
Cut to ten days later.
I’m sitting in the office working away at some silly proposal… And what shows up?
Here’s what it looked like when I pulled it apart:
