Praise be to St. Wenceslas, they showed "X2: X-Men United" on the flight from Detroit to Amsterdam. This was like the mythical "red sky at night" which assured sailors that the next day at sea would be a beautiful one. X2 was surely a perfect prelude to my semester abroad in the Czech Republic. Close-up on my smiling face as the opening credits roll and I start my chicken dinner.
Cut to a long shot of me standing on a bench 15 hours later in Ruzyne, the small Prague airport, looking for the AU pick-up person in the throng of people and seeing no one waiting for me. A half hour passes and still no one.
Before I left the states, I was confidant. I was going to take Europe by storm, wrestle it to the ground, see and do everything and pay the minimum fee for it. Alone and completely without resource in the airport, I was helpless; I couldn't call home and didn't want to find a phone to call the program director and risk missing the pick-up.
While I waited, I thought of two things I could do if no one ever showed up. One: I could go up to the man who was holding a Merck sign with the name Dr. Roz(hook)orka written on it and pretend I was, in fact, Dr. Roz(hook)orka. If I could keep the act up, there'd probably be a nice hotel and full breakfast in it for me, and I'd only have to go to a medical conference or two. Two: fly back to Amsterdam, take KLM airline's charter plane to Casablanca, Morocco, find Rick's Cafe and convince Ingrid Bergman that Bogart and Heinreid are losers.
Then someone approached from behind and tapped me. "O.K.," I thought to myself: "This is one of those Czech gypsies you read about. You will turn around, he will do some sort of dance for you and his friend will pick your pocket while you are distracted by his footwork."
"Excuse me, are you Jacques?"
I turned. A middle-aged but animated man with glasses and graying hair smiled at me. Figuring there was nothing to lose, I said, "yes." The smiley man introduced himself as Pepi Lustig, the Prague program director. His accent made it hard for me to recognize my own name, but soon enough I was in his minivan heading toward Kolej Komenskeho, my residence for the semester. On the way, Pepi lectured me on the complete history of the Czech lands, year by year. Summer was over.
My name is Dan Zak (pronounced "Dah-neh Jacques" in Czech). I am a junior at AU, double-majoring in journalism and literature, with a minor in cinema studies. During my first two years, I lived in Hughes Hall and served as the arts editor for The Eagle last semester.
My hometown is the charming Great Lakes metropolis of Buffalo, New York, where I spent most of my childhood either in Catholic schools or Lake Erie. I turn 20 on Thursday. I like chocolate, movies and running. I will be corresponding with you devout Eagle readers every Monday.
But I'm not sure how to write this column, what I hope to accomplish by doing it or what I expect you to get from it. Just think of me as the hero of some Graham Greene novel, an American who is flung to the outer banks of Europe, caught up in the mystery and intrigue of Bohemia. Hopefully, I'll avoid the tragic-ironic ending characteristic of Greene's novels. Only one way to find out.
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