Generally, when I listen to music, I listen to whole albums. Rarely do I put my iPod on shuffle and when I do it's because I want to rock out to some tunes rather quickly. This has a certain benefit that comes straight out of left field: depending on how long I've listened to music, I can tell how long I've been engaged in an activity. That's also thanks to Winamp, since its playlist window is kind of enough to note the run time of all the songs placed in it - as a result, I generally know the length of all the albums I have.
So when I tell you that I listened to all of Yes's Fragile and most of the Red Hot Chili Pepper's Mother's Milk, it means that I spent at least an hour on a trip from the NYU Academic Center (more or less) to my dorm at Osadni 35. You might wonder why it took me so long to get home. Well, it's simple: I walked.
During our first floor meeting, we were all handed a blue folder that contained several documents. One of the items inside was a set of four tickets to use on Prague's public transportation system. It was highly suggested that we get our 90-day metro passes as soon as possible, to save us any hassle. Now, the passes aren't cards that you swipe. Oh no, they're in essence badges that you just keep on your person. See, in Prague, the metro works on an honor system. When you board a tram, there are little ticket stamping machines but you don't have to use them to sit; the same goes for the subway (which they call the metro). To get underground, you don't have to cross any turnstiles; again, there are the same ticket stamping machines but there is no barrier you need to cross.
Since it's an honor system, there must be checks in order to preserve it's integrity. To maintain order, then, the city has inspectors dressed as civilians who at random times will ask to see your ticket. There's no way to know who these people are. Granted, a highly trained eye will realize they are ticket inspectors from their body language but it can be quite subtle.
My problem was that I didn't get my metro pass for nearly a week; indeed, I finally got it today. By Wednesday night, which is when I walked to my dorm, I had used up all my tickets. I could have risked boarding the trams without one, as I had boarded a tram without stamping a ticket. Sadly, the day before, my roommate told me that one of his friends had been fined 700 crowns for not having stamped her ticket. It happens, so I'm not going to take any chances.
The walk was long and painful. It was cold and I was alone, so loneliness overtook me, adding to the various thoughts running through my head. I had a sense of where to go, and I followed the river. Truthfully, though, I felt completely lost. At certain moments, I noticed a landmark that I had seen while on a tram so I knew I was headed in the right direction but it wasn't easy to shake the sense of not knowing where I was going.
By the time I reached my dorm, I was spent. I ate some food and eventually headed out once more to get a metro pass. To get one, I needed three things: a slip that I had already filled out, money to pay for it, and a passport photo. I had all but the last. The station I went to had a photobooth, though, and I used it only for my irrational state of mind to prevent me from realizing the picture was deposited on the outside of the machine. I left the station, furiously sad, with a 100 crowns less than I went in and no photos.
It all works out, though. Last night, Jessie helped me and I got my photos. The frustration at not realizing how easy it was just made me yell inside - and it still does! To further my lost cause, by the time I got the photo the ticket booth was closed so there was no way for me to get a pass. What to do?
As always, simple enough: I woke up at eight in the morning and walked over to the station yet again and finally got my metro pass. A week of senseless behavior on my part cost me a total of 152 crowns (two extra tickets plus a lost photo). Such is life.
Of course, karma works in interesting ways and life has a tendency to bring about certain events or experiences. While walking the underground to catch a subway with a couple of friends, I was stopped by a ticket inspector, along with one of people I was with. The man's clothing did not stand out and at first I thought he was trying to sell me some product - legal or not. He spoke in Czech and I didn't understand, but the badge in his hand quickly made me realize what was going on. I pulled out my metro pass, showed it to him, and was let go. I caught the train, transferred to a tram, and came home.
That must be how honor is upheld.
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