147 Hours

The teacher asks how we are, in Czech. The class responds with a chorus of dobře. Good. In fact, we are not good. But “good” is the only thing anyone can remember how to say and the only thing any of us will cop to. The caffeine from the triple espresso is going to wear off in fifteen minutes, about the same time that the kid who overslept will arrive.

Six days. We’ve been in Prague for six days. I feel like we’ve been here a lifetime.

We can’t keep this pace up; not and survive.

At least one person has come late to class every day. Everyone is tired, half are hungover. It isn’t all even drinking related — but most of it is. We stay up late just because we can. Because this doesn’t feel like real life yet. We keep saying things like “Oh, are you going to be a senior?” Like we aren’t actually at college. As if this doesn’t count. It feels like we’re on an extended field trip, one with a lot of cheap beer and clubs.

However, this is real life. Eventually we are going to have to settle down into routines, schedules and classes. Just not yet.

Today, a girl came to class wearing her party dress and hooker heels. Rough night.


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