Little boy lost

Pete, Bet and I made our way quietly to the underground station. It was early, we'd be early;
but  despite their protestations I didn't want to be late so we'd given ourselves far too much time. I should have gone alone really, having my best friend and girlfriend along for the ride made for a far too long goodbye. I was nervous and edgy while they were sad and hungover. None of us sure we could live without each other, none of us sure we'd ever see each other again. It all made for a recipe of awkward silences and brave faces. I wonder how many times I checked my passport and ticket, on the way, 15, 20, maybe even more and despite knowing full well that I was early I checked my watch even more often. Hell, I wanted the tube ride to last for ever while at the same time wished we had already reached our destination. 

Airports were so alien back then, the departure hall stretched out before us like a great desert before three intrepid explorers, but only one of us was going on an adventure.
Check-in done, customary airport beer drunk, it was time to say goodbye. Peter gave me a bear hug, then held my jacket as Bet and I shared a shy, awkward cuddle, and that was that, I was away, one last look back as I passed through passport control. Off they went, the odd couple, the best friend and the girlfriend nothing in common but nicotine and me. Years later I discovered they got stupidly drunk together that night, but the discovery I made immediately was that Pete had wrapped my jacket around a pack of 12 condoms. When I say I discovered, it was not strictly true. It was the security guy who discovered it as he put my coat in the tray for the x-ray machine, ‘thinking you'll get lucky’ he said with a wink. ‘Well I am going for a year.’ I replied with a smile. Simpler times, more innocent.

The flight was a case of doomsday scenario, what if it crashes? What if they don’t let me in? What if my bag's not there? What if there's no one there to meet me? Of course we didn't crash, they did let me in, my bag did arrive and amongst the foregin words and mean looking security personnel, Jim’s smiling face was waiting for me. 

 I guess Jim and his wife took pity on me; I am sure other teachers didn't get offered to be taken for pizza, but I guess they saw the fear in my eyes. I almost bit their hand off, so we dumped my stuff in my new flat and walked down to Pizza West for non-traditional Czech food and my first Czech beer. I could feel myself relaxing as we ate, coming to terms with my new surroundings.

Walking home I suddenly felt full of courage, this was the new me, I was going to be brave and try things.  I walked passed the pub at the bottom of my building and decided to go in for a pint. It was bright, and yellow and smoky, somehow not like British pubs, lit like a sitting room instead of a bar.
‘Jedno pivo’ I said with phrase book enthusiasm, and then ‘dobry den’ as the beer arrived. It was only later I discovered I was saying good morning instead of thank you.
Soon I was surrounded, the youths had lost interest in their game of pool and were swarming around this exotic being in their pub. Their English was poor but friendly, their Czech was warm and welcoming and the red head seemed to be reserving her smiles just for me. I drank more than I should have and even bought a round of Slivovice, before getting up to go. As I left, the pretty girl with the red hair came up to me and said, ‘welcome to Prague’ in heavily accented English and planted the tenderest kiss on my cheek. I climbed the stairs to my new apartment with a smile on my face and a spring in my step, but as soon as I shut my new front door tiredness hit me. I slumped down on my inviting bed and almost broke my back, what had looked like a soft, comforting cloud was actually a hard piece of concrete. I started laughing, I laughed and laughed, the stress of the day flooding out of me. This morning seemed so far away both in time and distance but also in attitude; I wasn't going to be sad, this was a new beginning a new start and hey it wasn't going to be foreever. I think I could like it here, I thought to myself, I might stay a year or two.