"No.. let's go to another bar, I'm not drunk enough"
I was supposed to go to a Ska show last night. For any number of reasons, I really wanted to go. I'd never heard of the place where it was, and when I looked it up on the map, it was in a part of town I had never been to. When I actually got there yesterday afternoon to scope out the place, I realized how ridiculously out of the way it is. It took me over an hour to get back to the dorm from there. That was in the early afternoon. The show started at 2100, and there were at least three bands performing, which meant I would be out of there after midnight. Midnight is when the metro stops running and the trams switch over to the night schedule. It was looking like it would be quite a bit of trouble going to this show, so I resigned myself to staying home.
That didn't last long.
After relaxing in my room for a bit, I figured I would at least make the effort to get outside, and decided to go get a bagel from Bohemia Bagel. As I was walking back to the dorm from the tram, I crossed paths with my roommate, Jeff and some of his friends. They said they were going to some bar or club or something, so I figured I would get out as well. Got back on the tram, and ended up a short distance away from the club. Of course, at this point, it was an hour and a half after the start of the show, and I was unshowered and generally unkempt. Not the way I would go to a show. So I hung out with the folks for the evening and had a fun and interesting evening. In two parts. First was the fun part, wherein I met the owner of the Blind Eye, the bar we went to. He's from Indiana and hasn't been back to the states since he went on a protesting holiday six years ago. Nice guy. Plenty of tattoo's up and down his arm and a demeanor very fitting for his bar. I think I will be back to visit him again soon. The interesting part came when one of the girls that was in our group decided that the office of the owner would be a fantastic place to vomit. As per his policy, he asked her to clean it up, but she was in no state to, so I grabbed the mop. As I was cleaning, the executive decision was made to move on from this particular bar. Of course, we couldn't leave without Vomit Girl deciding that the jacket she did not wear to the bar was no longer (not) with her, and now needs the owner's help to find it. It was about this time that Jeff and I began to feel like babysitters.
We left the bar, and tried to convince the group that Vomit Girl needed to get home. No such luck. We finally convinced them that no matter what, we needed to walk toward the tram. But this was only after cartwheels. Apparently, the street corner in the residential area that we were in was the ideal place to prove to the world that Vomit Girl and The Fibbing Lush were not too drunk to do cartwheels. As soon as that fact was established, we could finally move on towards progress.
As we waited for the Night Tram, the girls lost their battle with gravity and just had to lay on the ground. But they got up as soon as it was time to see who could get closest to the tram as it passed.
Jeff and I should charge $8.50 an hour and have free reign of the fridge.
I managed to segregate myself from the rest of the group on the tram, which offered me a bit of peace, quiet, and the opportunity to observe other people dealing with their drunk friends. However, it was during this tram ride that I heard the quote that is the title of this post. Her friends were well on their way to alcohol poisoning, and she says she would like to go to another bar because she is not drunk enough. I was done.
Through no small miracle, Jeff and I convinced everyone to get off at Narodni Trida and get some food at the sausage stand outside Tesco. Then, the wonders of wonders came, as we all walked across the bridge over to Ujezd which enabled Vomit Girl to sober up enough to realize that she didn't need to stay out a whole lot longer.
All in all, I finished up my portion of the night out sitting outside of the group inside the back room of the 8-Ball, counting the minutes until the night tram was due. When it came time, Jeff, Vomit Girl, Our Friend Oliver and I went to the tram stop and tried to figure out how to get Our Friend Oliver back to his dorm, which is quite a bit away from our dorm. Standing there, comparing the tram schedule to the map to the other map, we must have looked more than confused enough for the nice guy and his girlfriend to come over and offer assistance. I was immediately wary of this stranger, since he looked a bit like a cross between Silent Bob and Olaf from Clerks (complete with obscure heavy metal t-shirt). I figured they were a gypsy team looking to pick a few American pockets. Wouldn't be the first time for Prague. I watched his hands as he told us where to take the tram to so that we could transfer over to where we needed to go. I watched her hands as he pointed out on the map exactly what the area looked like so we knew how to get to the transfer. But no problems. As we stood on the tram, he struck up a conversation about university, and his career covering metal bands in the US and Canada for a Czech music magazine. It was at this time I dubbed him Buddy Olaf. As we neared the stop that Our Friend Oliver was to get off at, he politely excused himself from conversation with me to tap Our Friend Oliver on the shoulder and remind him of what he was to do. Even when the tram left that station with Our Friend Oliver still on board, Buddy Olaf was quick to help, letting Our Friend Oliver know that at the next stop, he should get off with him and his girlfriend and he would show him exactly how to get where he needed to go.
I can only assume everyone got to where they needed to.
During the course of our conversation, Buddy Olaf and I happened to mention New York a couple times. As is natural, given the extreme importance the place seems to have for whatever reason. Every time the words were uttered, this man in his mid-40s would turn and smile in our direction. He chimed into our conversation towards the end of Buddy Olaf's tram ride with a "New York is definitely better than New Jersey" and I knew we would have a good conversation. Turns out he is not an American expat living in Prague, but is, in fact, a native New Yorker in Prague for holiday. He owns a pizza shop in Bon Aire. So this guy goes from New York to Bon Aire, opens up a pizza shop, and goes to Prague on vacation. I don't know if there is any way to express my humor at this situation. Nice guy, ended up chatting with him for a bit and getting all of that out of him, in addition to his feelings regarding American politics and American university students riding the night tram at 3 am. Jeff tells me that he has seen that guy quite often lately, riding the night trams and smiling. He's creeped out.
The night was over as we made our way back to the dorm. I had been sober for hours, and had walked for more than I should have. I woke up this morning not with a hangover, but with a sore foot. My left one. The one I like. Now neither of my feet are doing so great. Oh well.
That didn't last long.
After relaxing in my room for a bit, I figured I would at least make the effort to get outside, and decided to go get a bagel from Bohemia Bagel. As I was walking back to the dorm from the tram, I crossed paths with my roommate, Jeff and some of his friends. They said they were going to some bar or club or something, so I figured I would get out as well. Got back on the tram, and ended up a short distance away from the club. Of course, at this point, it was an hour and a half after the start of the show, and I was unshowered and generally unkempt. Not the way I would go to a show. So I hung out with the folks for the evening and had a fun and interesting evening. In two parts. First was the fun part, wherein I met the owner of the Blind Eye, the bar we went to. He's from Indiana and hasn't been back to the states since he went on a protesting holiday six years ago. Nice guy. Plenty of tattoo's up and down his arm and a demeanor very fitting for his bar. I think I will be back to visit him again soon. The interesting part came when one of the girls that was in our group decided that the office of the owner would be a fantastic place to vomit. As per his policy, he asked her to clean it up, but she was in no state to, so I grabbed the mop. As I was cleaning, the executive decision was made to move on from this particular bar. Of course, we couldn't leave without Vomit Girl deciding that the jacket she did not wear to the bar was no longer (not) with her, and now needs the owner's help to find it. It was about this time that Jeff and I began to feel like babysitters.
We left the bar, and tried to convince the group that Vomit Girl needed to get home. No such luck. We finally convinced them that no matter what, we needed to walk toward the tram. But this was only after cartwheels. Apparently, the street corner in the residential area that we were in was the ideal place to prove to the world that Vomit Girl and The Fibbing Lush were not too drunk to do cartwheels. As soon as that fact was established, we could finally move on towards progress.
As we waited for the Night Tram, the girls lost their battle with gravity and just had to lay on the ground. But they got up as soon as it was time to see who could get closest to the tram as it passed.
Jeff and I should charge $8.50 an hour and have free reign of the fridge.
I managed to segregate myself from the rest of the group on the tram, which offered me a bit of peace, quiet, and the opportunity to observe other people dealing with their drunk friends. However, it was during this tram ride that I heard the quote that is the title of this post. Her friends were well on their way to alcohol poisoning, and she says she would like to go to another bar because she is not drunk enough. I was done.
Through no small miracle, Jeff and I convinced everyone to get off at Narodni Trida and get some food at the sausage stand outside Tesco. Then, the wonders of wonders came, as we all walked across the bridge over to Ujezd which enabled Vomit Girl to sober up enough to realize that she didn't need to stay out a whole lot longer.
All in all, I finished up my portion of the night out sitting outside of the group inside the back room of the 8-Ball, counting the minutes until the night tram was due. When it came time, Jeff, Vomit Girl, Our Friend Oliver and I went to the tram stop and tried to figure out how to get Our Friend Oliver back to his dorm, which is quite a bit away from our dorm. Standing there, comparing the tram schedule to the map to the other map, we must have looked more than confused enough for the nice guy and his girlfriend to come over and offer assistance. I was immediately wary of this stranger, since he looked a bit like a cross between Silent Bob and Olaf from Clerks (complete with obscure heavy metal t-shirt). I figured they were a gypsy team looking to pick a few American pockets. Wouldn't be the first time for Prague. I watched his hands as he told us where to take the tram to so that we could transfer over to where we needed to go. I watched her hands as he pointed out on the map exactly what the area looked like so we knew how to get to the transfer. But no problems. As we stood on the tram, he struck up a conversation about university, and his career covering metal bands in the US and Canada for a Czech music magazine. It was at this time I dubbed him Buddy Olaf. As we neared the stop that Our Friend Oliver was to get off at, he politely excused himself from conversation with me to tap Our Friend Oliver on the shoulder and remind him of what he was to do. Even when the tram left that station with Our Friend Oliver still on board, Buddy Olaf was quick to help, letting Our Friend Oliver know that at the next stop, he should get off with him and his girlfriend and he would show him exactly how to get where he needed to go.
I can only assume everyone got to where they needed to.
During the course of our conversation, Buddy Olaf and I happened to mention New York a couple times. As is natural, given the extreme importance the place seems to have for whatever reason. Every time the words were uttered, this man in his mid-40s would turn and smile in our direction. He chimed into our conversation towards the end of Buddy Olaf's tram ride with a "New York is definitely better than New Jersey" and I knew we would have a good conversation. Turns out he is not an American expat living in Prague, but is, in fact, a native New Yorker in Prague for holiday. He owns a pizza shop in Bon Aire. So this guy goes from New York to Bon Aire, opens up a pizza shop, and goes to Prague on vacation. I don't know if there is any way to express my humor at this situation. Nice guy, ended up chatting with him for a bit and getting all of that out of him, in addition to his feelings regarding American politics and American university students riding the night tram at 3 am. Jeff tells me that he has seen that guy quite often lately, riding the night trams and smiling. He's creeped out.
The night was over as we made our way back to the dorm. I had been sober for hours, and had walked for more than I should have. I woke up this morning not with a hangover, but with a sore foot. My left one. The one I like. Now neither of my feet are doing so great. Oh well.