Prague 2005: Day One, Part Two - The Real Eye-Opener!

Final Beer-count=24ish

Continued from part one.

Alas, it was soon time to leave - another bar beckoned. Renée and Mikita somehow sneaked us into a restaurant which appeared to be closing, and then got us the entire backroom! Amazing. This was only a pit-stop though, so only one beer was ordered. I don't believe we'll be invited back there in a hurry either after a full-scale beermat war was declared... Oops. It was here that Renée disclosed to us the fact that the club she hoped to take us into wasn't happening. However, as a reserve plan (and under the Duke's highly persuasive persuasion) she lead us out and toward the kind of place that you wouldn't take your mum. Whoohoo! The evening was about to turn interesting.

I wish I could remember the name of this place. I really do. Because it was ace. The girls were all very, very attractive, it had a good atmosphere (as much as a strip joint can) and it was VERY obviously not a whore-house (despite Johnnie's request for 'extras'). So we wondered in, made ourselves comfortable and had a few beers (2 for 1; cheers Renée!) when the Barone had a fine idea and needed to collect some cash for it. Cash collected and Renée consulted, the Duke is lead off by a incredibly attractive dancer (the best in the club, according to our in-the-know guide, and after seeing her dance onstage later it's hard to disagree) for a private dance. He appears later a changed man, apparently experiencing something "every man should experience at least once in their life". Good then.

By this point we had lost a few of the weekends operatives - casualties were to be expected - but as ever, the operation must go on. As reluctant as we were, we had to leave the gentlemans club. There was one final stop for the evening that we were now heading towards. We had a choice of final destinations, and the Duke opted for the 80s club which was located under a shopping arcade. Again, if it wasn't for the fantastic Renée and Mikita I doubt it is somewhere we would have stumbled across.

We entered, handed coats in and straight to the bar. Renée and Mikita had obviously worked together before as they operated like the true professionals that they are. In a precision movement they would sweep toward the bar, catch the attention of the barstaff that obviously already knew them, order the required beverages and then return, one carrying said beverages whilst the other cleared a path. Deft, cunning and smoother than my lines through Thetford Forest. Yes, that smooth. As the Duke quite rightly pointed out the next day, "I don't think there was a single moment all night that I didn't have a drink". Yes, they were good.

So, coats in and drinks ordered, we started to take in our surroundings. We'd entered the club and headed for the nearest bar without really doing a proper recce - very unprofessional. The bar was surrounded by what looked like garden furniture, and didn't appear to be that crowded. We certainly seemed to be the only English there (thankfully). However, looking over the balcony we could see a large dancefloor down below that had quite a lot of room that blatantly needed filling, which was when the DJ of the evening made his first grade A tune choice of the night - Ghostbusters. The Banditos were strutting stuff before you could say "who ya gonna call?". The dancefloor was about to take a battering.

We hit the dancefloor, but before it was truly beaten into submission (in about 20 seconds) the girls had secured stage space. Being the quiet and reserved types that we all are, we accepted our spaces overlooking the floor gracefully and proceeded to give the regulars a fine display of such fine jigging that it is unlikely to ever be surpassed and will go down in local history. Well, it felt that good, but if I'm honest, I have a feeling that our rhythm may have been ever-so slightly out. I'm sure we were looking damn funky though! Anyway, we were jigging for England, Mikita was jigging for the Czech Republic and Renée was jigging for South Africa. We were all jigging with each other and Johnnie was doing his best to get some extra-jiggy action with Mikita, and very amusingly being shot down in flames. Renée admitted that we were "different to most groups that come out", which I took to be a good thing. The girls were also superb jiggers, always jigging on the edge of being provocatively jiggy but without actually getting to the 'jiggy' bit of the 'jig'. If you catch my jig. Good lasses - I think. Hmm.

Now I know that several things happened during the evening, but I'm not entirely sure of the order. But they went something like this:

• The DJ made his second grade A tune choice of the evening - The Final Countdown by Europe. Fantastic. It was at this point that the Barone realised that he'd fulfilled one of his lifelong ambitions; to dance to Europe in eastern Europe. Superb!
• We noticed that some locals were stagediving. Again, being shy and retiring (and, admittedly, a little pissed at this point) we all decided to make new friends and join in! Several highly amusing dives later a local girl decided to give it a go; all arms spread out to catch suddenly turned palm-up. She was very secure on landing, it took her a good few seconds to reach the floor and most of the guys grins got a little larger!
• I ended up dancing with a fat girl, who could jig the jig but did scare me somewhat! So I tactfully retreated.
• We decided that we fu*king rock. Just because we do.
• I think Mikita got Eddie to dance at least a little... No doubt he'll deny this emphatically but I'm sure he did have a trial jig on the stage at some point!
• The Duke pounced on me while I talking to a particularly attractive Czech girl, and tried to get me to dance with the fat girl again, after she'd scared Southern Monkey off. She was rather scary.

We'd been on stag now for nearly 24 hours and the Duke had only made one faux-pas, so as the evening drew to a close it made sense for him to commit a second. The first he knew of it was when a rather large Czech grabbed hold of his leg while he was dancing on the stage, and as the Duke backed off he left his trouser leg in the hands of said Czech. This wouldn't have been a major problem, except it was about -3 outside and one-legged trousers are not considered appropriate winter attire (and in fact are looked upon as a bit of a fashion error). The Czech then approached the Duke, appearing oblivious to the fact that the Duke was surrounded by a bunch of very protective, drunk English and two local girls, and once establishing that the Duke spoke English, proceeded to tell him why he'd torn his trouser leg off.
Apparently the Duke, during a dancing-fit, had kicked a bottle over on the edge of the stage which had spilt its contents onto the Czech's trousers. The Duke apologised, as did Mikita in Czech, but our new-found friend didn't appear to be the brightest light on the Christmas tree and very calmly told the Duke that although it was an accident, they still had to "go outside and fight". The atmosphere had suddenly got a lot colder and everyone was sobering up very quickly. The guy looked to be on his own and so far appeared not to have recognised that the Duke was not alone. He seemed far more intent on pulling Mikita away from the Duke so to have a clear path through to him, but Mikita at this point was refusing to budge and most of the remaining Banditos had gathered round and alongside.
Mikita eventually persuaded our rather dopey friend that it would not be a good idea to start a fight, but it did take quite a lot of doing. He seemed fairly intent on a gentlemanly fisticuffs duel and pretty clear on the rights and wrongs of the situation, and I still am unsure as to whether he realised that he wasn't infact in the majority when it came to numbers prepared to get involved. Ho-hum!

On leaving, the few of us that were left (numbers had dropped significantly - it had been a tough beer-skirmish) offered to walk the ladies home. Renée lived in our neck of the woods anyway, so came with us, but Mikita had to head off in a different direction. We were all a little concerned, but she had no worries about walking home at 3.30am on her own, and let's face it - she's the local. Amazing town.
We all gave her a hug and a kiss and then separated to head back to our respective beds/dorms/IKEA showrooms. The Duke was keen to go and was getting rather annoyed at the strange looks and sniggers that were being banded in his direction (we weren't laughing in the slightest, of course), so we set off at a swift stagger comparing tales of machoism and general heroics that were 'this far from happening'.
On reaching the hotel Renée left us to head back to her own place, and again wouldn't accept an escort (not, I hate to say it, that we'd be of any use), so we retired to our cool IKEA loftspaces for a few hours well-earned respite. I left the Duke fully-clothed becoming one with the starfish community in our room and went next-door to snaffle one of the free singles. Time check: 4.30ish. Mmmm. Bed...

And so ended day one, but day two was just around the corner...

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