The bar I’m sitting in has black walls and I’m one of three customers in the tiny place. There’s Hockey on the television in the corner. The two other customers are a young guy and young gal who seemed pretty worn and they sat chain smoking with the bartender, a blonde with lots of make up and her hair done up high. They were doing shots of Vodka out of plastic shot glasses. I sat quietly sipping a couple fingers of bourbon.
“Na zdravi!” the three said as they raise their plastic dixie cups.
A bum stumbles into the place, the bartender and the two other patron’s pay no mind to him. He nudges me looking for a few bucks, so I give him my change. He’s dirty and desperate and dressed for a brisk evening. He stumbles over to a beat up pinball machine and puts the money I just gave him into the slot. He pulls the lever and starts playing. He seemed to have lost in a no time and began hitting the machine. The bartender broke from her conversation, shouted at the scruffy nut job and he yelled back, she pointed at him with her cigarette still in her mouth as she yelled and the guy made his way out of the bar still yammering about something in Czech as he walked out the door.
After a few more nips I buttoned up my coat, and left without ever saying more than five words to anyone in the place. I waved goodbye and I don’t think the bartender or the two other customers even registered it.
As I stepped out into the night, Prague glowed yellow from the street lights. The baroque architecture casts immense shadows that take the small city and push it into a time warp. At times you feel like you’ve been transported back five hundred years.
I reach the old town district and become bombarded with women of the night and dealers looking to scam a tourist on face blow. Groups of young men pile into strip clubs. Prague is a haven for mischief and mayhem. The rules here are pretty open. No one is looking to stop the party.