I'm not quite on board with the drunk posting thing, but we'll give it a shot.
Let me get down to biggity business. Hooters was fucking awesome. After an hour of merely 7 dudes, 17 more dudes rolled through and we (read: Brady) convinced the absolutely beyond even justifiably describable smokeshow waitress to open the basement for the 24 dudes anxiously waiting for a seat in the Hooters' main room. Now two things happened here. A shitload of dudes showed up, and our waitress was indescribably hot. I'm not one for redundance, but this lady was probably the hottest woman I've ever seen in the flesh. I would have snapped a photo, but I'm pretty sure that at the time I did not think my camera phone was worthy. I did, however, snag a shot of the first two pitchers we were served, both of which were unlike any pitcher I've ever been served in the past.
Each of these gems cost $5.75, and both of these gems were filled with Pilsner Urquell that hadn't traveled more than 35 miles. Shitty language and rude locals aside, this is the second greatest country in the world. Numero uno belongs to the you ess of aye, to which I'm pretty sure I can attribute the invention of the bacon cheeseburger.
This BCB was so good that I actually had to remind myself that my blog entry about hooters wouldn't be funny unless I provided some photography. You're looking at 45 seconds worth of consumption, and this was like a three-quarter pound hamburgeezy. I'm now 97% certain that the thing I miss most about the states is the abundancy of cheeseburgers, with breakfast meats are coming in at a very close second. Regardless, I polished off that photograph in under 100 seconds. Afterwards, I drank a lot more delicious cheap beer and groveled at our waitress. #RedefiningDimePiece
As I said, more bros arrived, and after that some of the CIEE babes arrived. We decided (or failed to not decide) to remain on one tab. Poor decision, because when it was time to roll, I captained the bill calculation and crown collection vessel, which made me very sober and thereby very frustrated. Hands down the worst decision I've made abroad. Word to the wise, pass on the calculation torch when there are 30 drunk kids waiting to leave without paying, cuz they bounced and left the triumverate of bill calculators, Matt, Graham, and myself, six or seven hundred crowns short. So we each had to shell out an extra 200 CK each to keep our ridiculously perfect looking waitress from lighting us on fire.
From Hooters we went to the infamous 5-story music club in prague (the biggest music club in eastern europe!!!!!). This massive, balmy, uber-advertised sin-house boasted 5 stories of bars and dance pits, each with a different theme. And each overflowing with dudes. I havent rubbed up against that many blue and white-striped button downs since the Bengals won the superbowl, which I'm almost certain has never happened.
When we arrived, a couple of the dudes from CIEE were beefin' with a couple of other dudes from the infinite pool of duderino (if you're not into the whole brevity thing) that was fueling this club. Which was tres lame, because nothing disrupts a good time like a pointless half-fight between two jacked up crews. After the tension fizzed, it almost got fun, but our patronage was seriously hindered by the fact that no one wanted to or could try to make their way onto the dance floor. Surprise surprise, wall-to-wall sausage.
So the 20 or so CIEE scholars present did their best to recreate the dance floor within a 15 foot by 15 foot space next to the bar (on level #4, which was dedicated to "radio hits"). Shit was alright. But not much beyond that. Honestly, the club scene is getting old, especially when the club scene involves tangentially grinding with 3 men you don't know.
And then I walked home. And then I bumbled around the dorm for a while. And then I threw up post #4.
This shit might get addictive.
Hollaaa,
Dolan
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