Czech Kirsch out!
Back in college, when you hooked up with a random girl from the bar, your biggest fear was running into her the next morning in the dining hall. Unless of course, she was really good looking, but that usually wasn’t the case for me. There was nothing worse than walking into Lower on a Saturday morning and seeing her in the omelet line. Because no matter what, the situation is going to be really awkward. Your friends are there. Her friends are there. They’re all whispering about you behind your back. You don’t know if you should just say hello as you pass by, or if you should stop for some bullshit small talk. It’s usually a nightmare.
Well, I think now it’s safe to say that running into a girl in the dining hall isn’t nearly all that bad. In fact, in comparison to what Kirsch and I went through on Wednesday, it’s pretty harmless. Yup, you guessed it: a 4-hour walking tour in Prague with the two chicks we hooked up with the night before…
On Tuesday night we rolled into Prague at around 9:00 pm and immediately went on a Pub Crawl. We show up at the first bar, and surprisingly, there are these two cute American girls playing ruit against these Canadian bros. At this point, naturally I’m thinking this is gonna be too easy. Just right in our wheelhouse. Yeah, I was kinda up for a challenge tonight. Maybe try to win over a nice Czech girl or something. But when life throws you a meatball right down the middle of the plate, you’re obviously gonna hit it.
I go over and ask them if we can play the next game and then start introducing myself. Nothing too over the top. Not trying to win the game in the first quarter. But just letting them know that Kirsch and I are in the building. By the third bar, it’s basically a done deal and all that’s left to do is decide which one is going to get Lindsey, the blonde, and which one is going to get Marshall, the brunette. I usually don’t go for girls named after discount retailers, plus I wanted to keep my consecutive blondes streak going, so it turned out to be an easy decision.
Then we split up and took our respective girls to different corners of the dance floor, and start talking and stuff. She tells me that she’s studying in Copenhagen at DIS (the program that Kirschner is in), so obviously my immediate response is “No way. Me too!”
Now I’m on a real slippery slope. Despite my recent discovery that Kirsch is a social animal, I overheard that the rest of the architecture program was pretty cut off from the rest of the school. So when she asked me what I was studying, I just told her that I was in the same program as Mike and that we lived together, blah blah blah. Then I just pulled a few street names out of my ass, and then a few train stops in Copenhagen, and she literally bought the entire story.
Next thing you know we’re dancing and inevitably one thing leads to another. Generally, I’m not a huge proponent for making out on the dance floor. Like, there’s a time and a place for everything. But with that being said, it’s not like I’m not gonna say no. I look over my shoulder and see Kirsch is doing his thing too, and it looks like things are heading in the right direction for both of us.
The problem, though, were their friends. These two grenades that were too much for a wifed-up Dave Robb to detonate. They eventually exploded right in our target range, and we were forced to say goodbye to Linds and Marsh a little earlier than we were hoping. Seemingly never to be seen or heard from ever again. Then Kirsch literally asked a decked-out Prague pimp on the street where we could get some food, and we ended our night settling for some late-night Doner.
Fast-forward to 10:00 am the next morning. My hangover is so bad that I’m seriously considering murdering Dave and Mike for making me walk around in this medieval land. Like, I thought I was supposed to be on vacation, not in King’s Landing wanting nothing more than for someone to take a Zelda sword to my neck Ned Stark-style. We finally arrive at the meeting place for our walking tour, and I’m hit in the face with the only thing that could possibly make this situation any worse: the girl I spent 3 hours making out with in the middle of the dance floor staring me straight in the eye.
