In the Czech Republic.
By this time next week, my youngest daughter Abby, will be looking at the tower from the window of her apartment. Or her dormitory. Or her youth hostel. We still haven't received word from the University of Colorado about her study abroad living quarters.
We only know that she'll be there. About 6,000 miles away from the safety, comfort and overbearing control of her father.
And just as I was anxious about my other daughter going to Africa last year, it will once again be time to load up on the Atavan. And the Pepcid AC. And the Maker's Mark. This easing of the nerves will be accompanied by a rigorous study of the crime statistics in former Czechoslovakia as well as a detailed knowledge of the neighborhoods/train stops Abby must avoid.
Of course no mention of an Eastern European country would be complete without a thorough understanding of that country's disposition towards Jews during the 1930's and 1940's.
Then again, maybe I'll spare myself the agony, the haunting black and white photos and the harrowing accounts of the Eissengruppen and their mass murder of children. This rarely gets mentioned but it's quite possible that of the 2 million Jewish children slain by the Nazis, there's a good chance one of those gifted boys or girls might have gone on to cure cancer or unlock the secret of cold fusion. Good work White Supremacist assholes.
To be honest, I have no idea why Abby has to go to Prague to further her studies of media and production. Despite my impassioned pleas, she has decided to follow in my excessively wide footsteps. Not necessarily into advertising, though she is not ruling that out, but something in the media arts field.
Then again, perhaps I'm rushing to judgment. Maybe Prague is the Eastern European hub for creativity, as a closer inspection of the TV tower reveals this...
Like Portland and Austin, Prague is proud of its weird.
And with my daughter's arrival, it's about to get weirder.
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