Southern Comfort

Our train ride to Prague was one of the more memorable parts of our trip thus far. As we shuffled into our assigned seats, I began to tuck away my backpack straps in preparation for lugging it into the overhead compartment. As I began to do this, a loud ruckus in the distance began to draw closer and closer. I likened it to a bull charging through a china store, only it spoke with a very strong southern accent. Right as I was about to hoist my bag into the compartment, I heard the "bull" say,"all riiight! Here's a spot for mah bag!" as he hoisted his huge suitcase into the spot right above my seat. Grumpily, I then drug my bag to another section of the train that had some free space.

AC and I ended up sitting facing these two other Americans. Eventually, the dreaded question came. "Where ya'll from?" It came from the quieter of the two, with a slighter accent to boot. Small talk gradually turned into a conversation filled with roaring laughter. One by one, our closest neighbors on the train moved to other parts to avoid our increasingly boisterous conversation.

In the end, we all made the best of friends. In fact, we've been traveling together pretty much non-stop with a small exception of their excursion to Budapest -- one we are very glad we didn't undertake. But more on that later ...