Prague – part two (The Stag Party Strikes Back)

OK, so we’d got to the hotel. Just. Bones shaken, internal organs rearranged and foreign nationals insulted.

First impressions were mixed. It was nice to see our security being a concern, but to find a big iron jailcell-style barred door blocking the entrance hallway was somewhat intimidating. I guess they also have different fire regulations over there.

The rooms themselves were OK, though. Ours wasn’t ready, so the (rather fetching) young lady in charge of the work said we could all move to her room if we wanted. I was all up for the invitation, until I realised she actually meant the one she’d just cleaned. Damn.

Keys were distributed, beds selected, showers had and bars headed for.

The hotel bar was down a few steps and into a dingy brick hovel. Fantastic. Gloomy, atmospheric and with prices ranging from 20Kr to 80Kr – Around 40p to £1.60 in British money. We all went for the cheap stuff. The best thing about the group was that nobody out of the lot of us smoked, so the pub stayed nice and smell-free while we enjoyed out first beer.

And our second.

Third.

Fourth.

Then someone mentioned food. Actually, there was a belching and farting competition in there somewhere, too, but food became a topic. I think it was just an excuse to get outside for some air you couldn’t chew.

We wandered down the road. Then back up to the first place we’d passed (isn’t that always the way) and filled out a small restaurant. The staff were friendly, the food good and the prices exceedingly cheap. A 12″ pizza and a beer was around 2 quid. I had a rather nice (and large) ham and cheese sandwich on what felt like freshly-baked and doughy bread. Lovely and rather filling.

Now – into Prague proper. We were only about a 15 minute walk from Wenceslas Square (apologies if I got the spelling wrong), which is the main tourist trap area. We’d decided to skirt this (though have a look) as the bars are apparently both expensive and rather crap. Prague’s quite small, so you don’t need to go far off the main bit to find the good places.

We plodged for ages trying to find some of the pubs on Colin’s “hit list” that he’d downloaded from the web. He’d spent about an hour poring over a map of the city, noting all the pubs by number so we had a plan. Then promptly lost the map. The berk.

So we wandered. And wandered. And finally popped into a random bar. Quite busy and very English-looking (aside from the prices). My misbehaving arse and myself was made to stand near the door for safety and health reasons.

Out of this one and round the corner to find another place. I happened to see a chalkboard indicating “BEER 25” – in other words “cheap”. Half of our group had already staggered 100 yards down the road so we yelled at them to come back.

“But it’s not on the list”

“Do you know where we are?”

“No”

“OK, so do you know where any of the places on the list are?”

“Erm… No”

“So we’re not going to find them and this one’s doing beer for 25K. We won’t get any cheaper”

It also, by some wild coincident, was filled with about 40 of the most stunning teenage girls I have ever clapped eyes on in my entire life. All wearing pink t-shirts, all chucking beer back like nobody’s business. I was in “dodgy old perv” heaven.

Aside from ourselves, there were only two other men in the place – one barman and one guy around 50 who seemed to be in charge of what I wanted to become my own personal harem. Maybe he was 25 and just knackered, but he looked 50.

There’s a law of averages which says that if you’ve got 40 girls in a room, then you’re likely to get maybe 5 who make your heart stop, 15 who you’d gnaw a minor limb off to have a go with, 15 who you’d not turn down and 5 who only hang around in bars in case the men drink themselves blind.

Not here. Oh no.

There were 2 who I’d have sold my mother 4 and 38 I’d have died to have the chance with. It was a very unreal experience.

Some of them were playing card games for forfeits. These included running outside and shoving their bare arse against the window, asking us to shout something at them in Czech (I still have no idea what it was), and removing their bras and wearing them on their heads (sadly the removing part was done in the toilet). They were so fit, you really couldn’t tell the bras had come off. Everything was so firm and yummy.

We stayed there for a while. The beer was good. Though I know what I’d rather have been lapping at.

All good things must come to an end and some of us were flagging after the early start to catch the plane – the ones who flew from Newcastle had been up since pre-dawn as their flight was earlier. So saying our goodbyes and shuffling awkwardly out to hide the bulges in our trousers, we made our way back to the hotel.

Colin, myself, and two of the other lads headed back down to a rock club we’d spotted earlier. It turned out to be more of a bar with decent music. And cheap beer. And a guy with a Rotweiller which was very friendly. This proved a problem as it turned out that one of our number suffers from caninophobia. Whoops.

The bar also sold the best-names energy drink of all time ever: Semtex. Oh, how I wish I’d picked some up and put the cans in my luggage. I can see the airport scenes now:

*beep beep*

“What’s in your bag, sir?”

“Semtex”

*sound of a hundred guns being cocked and aimed in my direction*

On the way back, we stopped for munchies in an all-night supermarket. Of course, in the age-old munchie tradition, these remained uneaten and most are currently sat on my desk at home.

I did, however, wake up Dean (who’d had to head back early with a dodgy stomach) and tell him all about the busty youngsters and make him feel even worse about leaving. What a bastard, eh?

And that was the end of the first day. More tomorrow!