Prague Sucks.

Oh man.  Where do I start this post?  I have to start by saying this weekend was both the most insane and the most divine weekend we've had in Europe.  It was completely out of control and completely destined at the same time.  Our German English professor would call that a paradox.  Side note, on my English final, I probably used the word "paradox" a dozen times.  Good thing our professor doesn't speak English.

So, we wanted to go to Prague this weekend.  We even boarded a train in Maastricht that was headed for Prague.  On the train, we noticed there was a group of girls who were also headed for Prague.  They were even taking the same overnight train.  In some stupid German town in the community of Stupid Ass Nowhere, these girls get off the train.  Noting this, my good pal Goldstein made the executive decision to follow them.  Despite knowing in his heart that this was very much not our stop, despite my shouting that this was very much not our stop, and despite the fact that we never intended to follow these girls, we got off the train in Stupid Ass Nowhere.  Shortly thereafter, Goldstein's face read something like, "Yeah...chalk this one up as my bad..."  So, the girls board their next train, and, as men, we think to ourselves, "Yeah, we could beat them to the next train and be asleep in our warm sleeper car."  We stand in the cold for about an hour.  We wait.  And we wait.  And Goldstein's face reads full of remorse.  Our train never comes.  We decide to cut our losses and head back to Maastricht.

Here's where the insanity takes a turn towards divinity.  The next train that pulls into the station is not the train back to Maastricht.  As Goldstein, Layne, and I are weighing our options, Layne looks to his right and says, "Wait...is that Derek?"  We look through the train window and see our buddy Derek, sitting alone next to his giant backpack.  We run onto the train, keeping one foot inside the train and one outside on the platform.  We ask Derek where he's going, and he says, "Interlaken."  Goldstein, Layne, and I look at each other, like something out of the final scene of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, and we ask, "Can we come?"

So, we headed to Switzerland.  We woke up and found ourselves surrounded by lakes and towered over by the sexiest mountains I've ever seen.  After spending the day exploring the town and weighing prices for the multitude of extreme activities offered in Interlaken, we rented some ski gear and called it an early night.  We woke up early on Saturday and met up with a group of awesome friends we had made the night before.  We hit the slopes around nine, and we hit them hard.  We skied our hearts out.  

The realization that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity began to sink in, and the joy that comes with that began to take over.  In true Patterson fashion, we had packed sandwiches for lunch.  We splurged for a pint of Erdinger to wash them down and had a great time living in the disbelief of the situation we found ourselves in.  Layne captured our "Corona" moment.

We worked our way down the mountain, skiing through frontyards until the snow turned to concrete.  We hustled back to our hostel, grabbed our backpacks, and caught the night-train back to Maastricht, exhausted and satisfied.  

Honestly, my mind is blown.  Just sitting down to format this trip into pictures and words has recaptured the awe of God's splendor and majesty that we experienced on this trip.  I could spend hours typing this post, and my words would never come close to bringing this justice.   

And yes, I am using that excuse to bow out early.  I'd like to thank my parents for that little bit of extra cash that made this trip possible.  And for conceiving me.


Also, we were without our friend Kevin Beach this weekend, therefore, no KBMOTW.  But have no fear, we weren't without a member of a fraternal organization.  Enjoy watching Layne's yard-sale.