Clubbing. 24.11.10

MORAL OF THE STORY --> always get a cell phone when you're abroad.

Obviously, the only way to relieve oneself from a hefty, educational day is to get crunk. Right?

Not us. David chooses a chiller, friendlier club for us to check out. He makes the decision when his other friends from the exchange program decide to go. It is also a fine choice because it is free. Our other option would have been a superhero themed German party.

Claud and I change and get our things together, applying extra eyeliner and fewer layers of clothing. I meet Dave on Facebook to discuss the travel route. He doesn't want to schlep back over to our hotel, and instead provides me with sarcastically specific directions to the 12 bus (which is where the WWII statue is, we find out the next day). 

Walk to door. Open door. Go down stairs. Drop off key. Turn right. Walk to alley way by cafe thirtysomething, or whatever it's called. Enter alley way. Stop at end of alley. Turn left.

etc.

Smart ass.

So, we made it successfully to the tram station on Narodní street. David's overly detailed directions failed to mention which tram to get on, as far as directions go. So we jumped on an 18 going the wrong way, of course. We ended up, in full club gear, without knowing a word of Czech other than "kava" or "pivo," in the PROOOOOOJECTS of Prague. We hop off the bus after Claudia uses her trusty eavesdropping skills to find English speakers sitting in front of us. As we wait at the correct #18 stop, a black cab screeches up next to us and the driver starts screaming at us in violent Czech. (When in doubt, shake your head and look for the tram <-- what we did). To be safe and avoid the English-speaker seeking tram cops (they like to pick on us and fine us), we speak in broken and convoluted, retarded Spanish to one another. I say we when I really mean I; her español es perfecto. 

When we finally pull into our destination, the tram slowly passes by David, who is flailing his arms. He runs up to the door as we exit, bugging. "I didn't know what to do! Whether I should hop in a cab to the other side of town, just to realize you guys were already on the right bus... assuming you had taken the wrong one and weren't dead..."

So we hop on the 12 with David, and head off to this free club. There are drug transactions occurring every which way, and we are unsure of the correct/safe entrance. We follow a native couple inside. The club is pretty cool; there's techno blasting in one room, and lots of exchange students frolicking about. David tries to order "pivo," but the ugly angry platinum blonde bartendress thinks he says "vodka shot." He corrects her, and she instantly goes from zero to tight, and leaves David in the hands of the other bartender. LOL

Turns out one of David's fellow exchange students had Jewish Women class with me last semester. He is very drunk and very gay, and I am not sure what to make of our reconnection. I veto him. 

We sit on this sky table thing and gander at Robert Pattison from Aussieland. le sigh

We take a trot to explore the rest of the club. Downstairs is a little "creepy," as David's mates accurately described. We stumble upon an entire room of our urban brothers  -  what? This is more black people than we've seen all day. The music and round of billiards comes to a halt as we peer around the corner, and they all stare at us. Our hearts stop, and we about face. One of them stalks us upstairs, even when we try to sit at the sky-table. We exit and go upstairs for some grub. 

A Czech waitress gets all stank-neck with us. David asks a dude if the kitchen is open, and he says "NO!"and snatches our menus away. 

On our way home, a dude approaches David at the midnight tram stop and asks for the time. David responds in English, and the dude doesn't understand. David attempts Czech, and whips out his phone and shows the dude, who then understands. Awkward toothless guy with a cane thinks it's funny that wir sprechen viel Sprachen.

We get back to a familiar area. We leave David at the tram and trot home. We are satisfied and go to bed.

The next day, we found out what actually happened to Sweet Dave when we left him all alone. A freaky, homeless individual approached him, and David announced: "I DON'T SPEAK CZECH!" The bum was excited by this and said some words in English. He eventually got chased away and a fellow transit customer approached David, complaining: "I fucking hate homeless people! Don't you? You can never get cheap drugs from them." And thus David found out that weed is easier to obtain during the day, and that the Czech was at our exact club trying to score some. The already-stoned lad also demanded David's facebook info.

Please note there is virtually no photographic evidence from this evening.. we were too afraid to whip out my Nikon.

The First David Tour. 23.11.10

Before we can embark on our quest, David must run back to his dorm. We board the TRAM. We got $5 day passes which need to be stamped once for every 24 hour card. It is a cleaner, somewhat more efficient and timely version of the City Island trolley. 

I am intrigued by his dorm's toilet - it has a pulley cable for a flusher...When in Prague.

Getting ready for action.

The tour is epic shit... literally... because I step in some by the Vineyards behind the palace. Backtrack --- *cue rewind sound* -- Claudia and I trot along behind David as he gives us a historical summary of Prague, building by building, stone by stone, step by step. He's a child prodigy.

So yes; Prague is chock full of medieval edifices, ex-moats, and horse steps. No shocker when we end up chilling by an old palace. Yeah, no biggie. It is also the first time we catch THE {FAMOUS} VIEW. 

We proceed around Old Town... I'm snapping away like a regular shutterbug tourist dbag. We start off along a beautiful monastery, take a turn and end up in a residential area. Technically, it would have been the town to the royal palace.

A door just my size... I knew I belonged here.

Our minds are blown by the beauty that is St. Vitus Cathedral behind Prague Castle.  Kings, emperors, and other powerful dudes of Bohemian society have made this area their home since the 800s.  Later, we learn that the ancient crown jewels are still kept in this palace. (We get an internal tour!) Appropriately, the castle was passed on to the next line of rulers, the Czech presidents. David tells us tales of the most revered president, who stands right outside the palace overlooking the entire city: Tomáš G. Masaryk. David explains, "He's so gangsta that G is literally his middle name." He was the first president of the First Republic of Czechoslovakia.

We enter the courtyard, passing some silly little dudes in uniform - the palace guards! There's a ceremonial switching of the guards like once a day. They're reminiscent of the British ones who just stand there, all glassy eyed and corpse-like. The courtyard is just beyond a wall that was once the threshold of a portcullis and a moat (now just a wall).

La casa del Presidente.

Courtyard

We meander around the vast court, and exit through another baroque, pretty archway. Now, I see St. Vitus for the first time. The sun is setting on this architectural marvel, casting a golden glow to its ancient stone and sculpture. I am so blown away that I literally have to sit down beneath the great aesthetic power exhibited by this edifice. As always, I have my trusty Nikon in hand. 

*drool*

David makes sure to kill the climax by informing us that more than half of this gothic masterpiece was completed in 1940. WTF? The lesser portion of it was good enough between the years 900 until the middle of the nineteenth century. The architect and a St. Vitus-enthusiast then directed a program to build upon this edifice, in the same style. I did not notice the subtle differences until David began pointing them out. The difference is actually more evident on the inside (later post!).

Thus, we three walk back to the center of town, where the Cloister Inn is located. David scurries off; Claudia and I prepare for the nighttime outing into the Unknown - a real Czech club.

Praha, 23.11.10

11am Central European time.
IN PRAGUE. We change our USD at the airport at an ATM. A man asks me how much money I withdrew and I give him a death stare, asking him why he thinks I would ever disclose that information. Son, I don't care if we speak the same language. This is a different land. Talk to the hand.
Anyway, turns out we are ballers. The USD is worth MADDDDDMUCH. The airport is pretty straightforward; nothing confusing or ridiculous, like JFK. Except for this whacko blue windowed piece of architecture.

An unusually attractive cabbie named Jan drives us along the language barrier to our hotel. We panic as he schleps our goods into the lobby, because we are unaware of the tipping policies of the Czechs. Not to mention, the currency is horribly confusing. I refer to the dollar bills as Rasputins.

Check in is at 2pm. Oy. We cancel the tour that is supposed to occur at 1pm as well as Terezín, and confirm the rest. The nice concierge offers to store our goodies in some room next to the 1337 bathroom. We reluctantly part with our suitcases. Actually, I'm thrilled not to be wheeling that polka dotted disaster around.
We perch in the Mediterranean restaurant across the street from our hotel. Claudi makes beautiful music with her glass of water.. with just a touch of her finger. "I got the power!" She orders this ridiculous pasta dish; I feel homesick and order a Greek "salad." The salad is fresh--fresh to death. I can't handle the goodness of the veggies and simply cannot finish it. I'm afraid I'll suffer from a reverse heart attack.

I also have to test the goodness of the caffeine for my addiction. A++.

David, as planned, meets us back in the lobby at 2pm (his class was canceled)! Upon entering the lobby, we notice that the vending machine in the lobby contains beer and chocolate. Interesting combination.

We put our crap away and meet him in the lobby a little after 12. When we gain access to our room, I go nuts! We have to wait for Dave anyhow.

I photograph everything while Claudia tests the sleep quality of our beds. He finally phones us from the lobby; we feel legit.

Keys, room card, internet password. I'm BUGGIN!

Complementary drinks. lol

The first thing we see as we exit the hotel, and really take a gander, is breathtaking. What a view! The ancient buildings are clean and precisely, deliberately decorated; nothing too fancy, gaudy or ridiculous. The cobblestoned streets curve beneath the soles of our boots.

Thus, we embark on the David Myers Tour, Phase I.

Takeoff. 23.11.10c.

7.15pm on the dot.
WE OUT! We roll closer to the runway. Claudia manages to translate a single Czech word two minutes later. 
The stewardesses in the safety videos go Shaniqua on us. They look like horsefaced wenches. Claudia pontificates upon the male equivalent for "stewardess." The screen flashes a single statement - "TRAVELED 0 km." Really? Hm.
Claudia, intrigued by these videos of the maps and meteorological movement, declares that her cockpit would require a greenscreen.


8.00pm
We fly away. No window seats, so we don't get to watch NY fade into the abyss. We immediately hit turbulence and Claudi is not excited. 


8.20pm
There is so much turbulence, that the original written account is barely legible. Basically, I almost pee on myself when I grow the cojones/ovaries to go to the plane potty. I also have a killer headache. I try not to blame Mr. Dolce & Gabbana.

When we fly over Oh Canada, the plane drops a couple of thousand feet in one shot. I had just finished demonstrating my super cool and collected attitude toward turbulence when we suddenly flop into the abyss. I grab both Claudi and the smelly hombre to my right. He probably still has the claw marks in his thigh.


9.35pm US time
The turbulence persists, the meals are delayed. I open my mini box of Honeycombs because I assume I'll starve otherwise on this eight hour flight from Hades. Sure enough, the plane food arrives. It is distributed in sequential row order, so naturally, we are fourth to last. "So hungry I could die, and it ain't right" becomes our theme. Crazy dehydration. Delirium. Turbulence returns. The stewardesses, both male and female, continue sharing their wealth of rubbery food as if the plane were not being shaken around like a bean in a jar. Smelly man beside me begins to rock back and forth due to his hunger issues, we suppose. I tell Claudia matter-of-factly, "You know that's a sign of autism."
My headache metastasizes. I declare, "I just pulled a Honeycomb out of my ass!" Purpose unknown.

Claudia's normal, preordered grub.

I get pasta and a really awesome brownie after all!

I repeat... AWESOME BROWNIE.

Obliteration.

We end up totaling our plane grub. Impressively good, and not too rubbery.

3.26am US time

We start to land! Straining our necks, we can see beautiful Praha below us.

Walking the Line. 23.11.10.b.

Maddddd excitement as we hear casual Czech being spoken all around us. It sounds like they have a dead rat stuck in their throats, but it's still super cool. It's hitting us from all sides, like language claustrophobia in a box. Once we get on the plane, the announcements are read in both English and Czech. 

As we roll to the runway, we sing...

I'M ON A PLANE, MOTHERF*ER TAKE A LOOK AT ME!

PLANE ENGINE MAKE NOSIE, MOTHERF*ER!

again, because we can. The dude sitting beside us has no idea what we speak of. He's a smelly older dude. I try being polite to him and say hello. He stares.

Claudia takes note of "Sex in a Yankee Hat" and "Tits McGee." Remember these individuals.

6.41pm

We are officially phoneless for the next week. For the first time in ten years. Omfg.

6.42pm

I find another pen while I search for gum.

6.45pm

I find gum. The weird man in seat 40E is frantically adjusting his belt. "Time to nut up or shut up!" I laugh at the irony of our situation - prior to boarding the plane, I had prayed that we wouldn't be stuck next to any malodorous, deodorantless European. Sure enough, this guy has the faint, stale stench of armpit. I regret sitting in the middle bitch seat betwixt my partner and my specimen.

Fortunately, seated in seat 39G, sits Sir Sexyfine Viktor Krum himself. Mad ethnic.

6.50pm

The friendly, rotund Stewardess with hair askew asks me if I want the "special Muslim meal." I bug out because I am the only one with Halal on the flight, for no ass reason. I tell her NO, I have no idea why it's listed that way. She apologizes on behalf of the company. Claudia laughs at my stupidity (I had forgotten that Halal is special food and not the delicious carts sprinkled on the corners of Manhattan. Womp womp).

The Stewardess also informs us that we are in the right row, but not in hte proper order of seats. She encourages us to swap tickets. And I thought MY OCD was bad...

We learn that the flight is 100% booked! We are told this in both English & český. Claudia is somehow oblivious to these airborne notifications, probably

 because they are not on Facebook.

6.59pm

We hear the sounds of a puppy but cannot seem to locate the source! 

Captain Donatelli greets the flight at 7.03pm. He is almost a ninja turtle. 

Claudia is overexcited and applauds the captain's forecast of 'light flurries' 

with one loud, obnoxious CLAP! People turn to look at her. Tits McGee chortles

and her boobs wobble up and down. 

We exchange knowing looks.

This takeoff is taking too long.

JFK, Terminal 3, Gate 3. 23.11.10a

Mom and Dad are BUGGGGGGIN on the entire road trip from the Boogie Down to Queens. We encounter significant traffic, and are delayed by stupidity. Isn't that always the reason? Claudia & her mom are already at JFK. I start to panic because I am super anal and hate being tardy. Mom tells me to chill out and Dad decides that Mapquest and technology are wastes of molecules.

We arrive at the airport with two hours to spare until takeoff. Mom helps me remove my obnoxious, enormous, plastic, black&white polka dot suitcase and oh-so corresponding magenta, floral carry on from the trunk. I begin thanking her when I notice her lip is aquiver. Really Mom? She weeps and tells me she's proud. I would also be proud if my child blew a grand on a five day European excursion. They drive off into the sunset. I enter in search of Claudia.

No sign of them. Shit. What do I do? What would Jesus do? A young soldier approaches me. "Are you lost?" I tell him my friends are lost. He has no idea where to help me or where North is. I ask him if he's ever seen the North Star. He says, "Huh?"

He adopts me anyway, until Claudia and her mommy wind their way out of Domestic (Gate 1 lol).

Easy airport entry thereafter. Funny Latino securrrrity messes with us, as we are groped and shoved through the metal detector. It does not pick up my body jewelry or the screws in Claudia's brain. While placing my items in the buckets on the conveyor belt, I am cut by three pilots. For some reason, they are priority passengers. WHATEV. I compliment one pilot on his fancy cowboy kicks.

Claudi finds a Starbucks, and is very excited.

We are clearly the only English speaking chicks waiting for this flight. I identify DUMB (a lot of) Czechs sitting around. A cute ass baby named Evelyn (thankfully, not a gangster child, so we know how to spell her name) teeters over to us and we creepily photograph her. Evelyn's young mom is a good sport.

Evelyn!

Claudia at this point makes a notable comment that is neither racist nor remembered. I have a temporary infatuation with die Stiefel (boots).


RESH UPDATE! I forgot to mention that Resh had planned to meet up with us before we entered... stuck in traffic, she makes her ultimate phone call at 6:08pm to apologize for being late... and being stuck in traffic... I then tell her to turn around because we are already chillin at the gate. Lol. Resh and I have known each other forever. Claudia has known her longer. We accept this.

Resh & me, ca. 2006

Anyway. Claudia and I make plans of screaming a certain censored word out of our window once we arrive in our hotel... because we can.

A few more Americans pop up at the gate. Phew. In fact, we end up joking with the ever-present Token of Flight 210 - he thinks we are nuts.

No shit.