In the summer of 2019, I took a spontaneous trip to Prague.
I hadn’t planned it far in advance—I booked it because I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. It was one of those quiet, persistent anxieties that sits in the back of your mind and refuses to leave.
Nothing terrible ended up happening. But in that moment, the trip felt like a safety net—something to hold onto, just in case life decided to fall apart.
Looking back, I realize it wasn’t really about Prague. It was about finding peace in the middle of uncertainty.
At the time, I was living in Berlin, Germany, and Prague was only about a four-hour bus ride away—making it the perfect spontaneous weekend trip.
I booked my ticket through FlixBus, packed light, and brought my Minnesota driver’s license as my ID — remember that part for later. I also booked a hostel for the weekend. I arrived in Prague alone around 11 p.m. on a Friday, and naturally, the first thing I did was check my phone for the address of my hostel… and I couldn’t find it. No problem, I thought — I’d just pull it up from the confirmation email. Also gone. So there I was: 25‑year‑old Tina, alone in Prague, technically homeless. At that point, I figured my best option was to find an ATM, take out some cash, and book the nearest hostel or hotel I could find.
I walked up to the ATM and selected the amount in the upper-left corner because, in my experience, that’s always the smallest option:
- In the U.S., usually $20
- In Germany, €20
But in the Czech Republic, it was a different story. What I had just selected was the equivalent of 600 euros. They use a different currency there, and I hadn’t switched the ATM language to English — lesson learned. With no better plan, I found a hostel, locked my unexpected fortune away in a safe, and went to sleep. The next morning, I got dressed and decided to explore the city.
As I was exploring the city, I started feeling… off. A few moments later, it hit me: I had a yeast infection. Because of course. Why not add that to the experience, right? Not wanting to spend the rest of the day wandering around Prague while feeling that uncomfortable, I decided it was best to head back to my hostel and grab some lunch.
After eating, all I wanted to do was go to my room, relax, and sleep it off. But when I opened the door, I was greeted with a full‑on surprise: a room packed with middle‑aged Turkish men, drinking vodka, blasting music, and absolutely living their best lives. And I just stood there like… wait, what? The night before, the room had been empty. I was actually thrilled because the receptionist had told me it was a shared room, so I thought I had somehow gotten lucky and scored it all to myself.
Yeah, no. Turns out my roommates had simply been out partying when I arrived.
The next couple of hours were a chaotic mix of me trying to rest and them enthusiastically trying to convince me to join the party. They were very committed to the cause. I was equally committed to declining. Eventually, the night passed, and by the next morning, I felt a lot better—so I headed back out to explore the city again.
After a successful day of exploring, it was time to head back to Berlin. I was very proud of myself for finding the right bus and getting there on time. 🙂
About 2 hours later, we arrived at the German border. A border control man came onto the bus and asked everyone for their ID’s. Being the American that I am, I pulled out my driver’s license. (Remember from earlier.) The controller man proceeded to tell me that my driver’s license did not suffice as an official ID, so for the next 10-15 minutes, I had to prove to him that I was really Tina, an American citizen, living in Berlin. I was so terrified that he would kick me off the bus and that I would be stranded somewhere between Germany and the Czech Republic. After explaining to him that in America, our driver’s license is also an official ID, he believed me and let me stay on the bus.
It’s safe to say that this was the most catastrophic, yet hilarious, trip of my life.
