POZOR VLAK

On the USJMNT, we like to think of ourselves as one singular, massive, freight train, barreling unyieldingly down the tracks at whichever poor soul might be in our way. We are a fearsome bunch; just as with a train, one can easy detect our presence from many leagues away. When we pass other crews on the water at Račice, it seems as though the very liquid on which they rest is raging and quaking, as if the world as they know it is descending to the wrathful gates of Hell. Such an occurrence cannot be reproduced by our foe; at the same time, though, the Czechs have a phrase which I think adequately describes the phenomenon, as they are the host nation and thus must be prepared for these things. This phrase is “POZOR VLAK.” Appearing on train-traffic-stop-signs galore, we believe it translates loosely as “ATTENTION. TRAIN.” Given the amount of times this appears along our route to the course, it seems only logical that this should serve as a spiritual indicator to us, reinforcing our aforementioned locomotive status. It is also a warning to other crews. “ATTENTION. The AMERICAN freight train is comin’, and y’all best get out the way.”

I think that pretty much sums up our Račice experience thus far. If you would like a more complete assessment, please dial 1....

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1.

We’ve been in the Czech Republic for a few days now, and our daily practice schedule is steadily becoming more and more normalized. At the beginning, I got up at 6:20 every morning for the early breakfast shift at 6:30; since then, the entire schedule has been pushed back a half hour, and I now wake up in roughly the middle of the day, at 6:50. Coach Campbell generously offered for the sweep boys to take the earlier of the two breakfast shifts, which actually did not bother me at all, because my internal clock is so discombobulated from waking up before 5 and changing through 6 timezones that I most definitely would not be able to sleep any longer anyway. At this hotel-supplied European continental breakfast, we enjoy an assortment of breads, meats, cheeses, sometimes fruits, always carrot salads, and frequently apple juices. There is also unflavoured yogurt, which I personally fancy when spruced up with honey and some sort of underground black-market Czech granola. None of us really need worry about digesting the foods quickly before practicing, because the shuttle to the course does not technically leave until 9:00 (but apparently here 9:00=8:53?). Yet I digress. In the mornings at the course, we typically go on an approximately one-mile warmup run, on which we conduct small bouts of surveillance, and mix in a tad of international relations along the way. One day a Canadian coach said hello to us; it was very flustering, because the genuine niceness of the gesture threatened to overwhelm our utmost concentration at remaining stone-cold killers. Of rowing. Anyway, we continued on our merry way, and went out for a regular row similar to those back in Jerz. Between this morning row and the afternoon row at about 2:30, we do not return to the hotel; instead, we loiter around the course. Thankfully, the grandstands and the cafeteria in which we eat are both geared with free wifi, so I can essentially kill two birds with one stone, and loiter while simultaneously meeting my daily requirement for Facebook stalking. During this in-between time, another integral part of competition unfurls; eating competitions. The athletes all eat lunch in one area, so our competition always knows when we are displaying weakness behind the fork and knife. This is where our efforts at the Americana and elsewhere truly come in handy; rather than let the Germans believe we are incapable of downing the last bit of chicken and rice, we show them up by getting another plate. Folly, you might say? Absolutely not. Mind games. We Americans are champions at mind games. You don’t believe me? Fine, don’t obey the sacred POZOR VLAK. You’ll be sorry. Trust me, when the American Pain-Train hits you square in the face, you’ll be real sorry. POZOR VLAK: train inbound. 'MERRICAN style.