"Good night!"
We left the tea house at 4am and my friends walked the five minutes to their homes, or across the street to the night tram that would take them there. I scanned the street for a bus stop. My home was perched on the edge of town and buses didn't run there for another two hours. But it would take me at least half of that to get there, anyway, and I didn't have a better offer.

The solid December ice refused to crack beneath my feet, instead, stealing my balance and providing a harsh landing pad for my tired frame. Luckily, I was padded to the maximum physically possible amount, and nothing broke as I hit the ground. It had been a beautiful night up to that point; we'd played music and games and laughed so hard, our bellies had ached. The journey home had often been the reason I'd passed up a night at the tea house, but now and then, I just had to be a part of something and spend time with people. My apartment offered heat, but not warmth.

I spotted a bus stop and made my way over. To my surprise, it would take me directly home, and not only that, it was due any minute. I couldn't believe my luck. My sore elbow was a memory as I read the sheet again to make sure I hadn't just seen what I'd wanted to see. And at that moment, the bus appeared at the end of the street and headed my way. I was only too happy to jump on and take a seat for the hour or so it would take to get home.

After some time, I realized I'd been watching parts of Prague scrolling past the window that I didn't recognize. By now, I should be at least half way home, and I would know exactly where I was. The trip display was off and I started to panic. As we approached the top of the hill, another bus came into view, heading in the opposite direction, and the destination sank my heart. In my excitement to get out of the cold, I'd gotten on the bus on the wrong side of the street and headed away from home. I was so tired and it was colder than my coat could fix.

I figured we would have to turn around at some point, so I chose to stay on the bus and wait it out, although I wasn't thrilled about the extra time it would add.

And then we came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. End of the line. The doors opened and the engine stopped, and the driver called to me, his sole passenger, to get off the bus. I looked out at the snow and shivered as the icy wind tore through my coat collar and scratched at my bones. Knowing I must wait in the thick of it for half an hour, only to return to the same bus and drive another hour or more in the opposite direction, I could have cried. I was exhausted and longing for my bed. But he had a soul. Responding to my request in badly damaged Czech, he closed the doors and turned on the heater under my seat. I couldn't have been more grateful.

I got home after six and fell through the bed, waking about the same time the following evening to the confusion of darkness. It took a while to determine if it was still dark or dark again, having missed the entire day. The clock was no help. It'd either been less than an hour or more than 12.

The rest of my week was washed out by the self-inflicted bus-lag. But all in all, I'd say it was worth it.

Grateful for the kindness of strangers.