Last night, we started playing drinking games at the hostel bar, then made our way to the tram stop nearest our street. The hostel staff rounds up a big crew of guests to take out on the town every night, so we packed into the tram with standing-room only. We paid cover at the Roxy and made our way down the giant granite steps to the underground club. There was an upper deck and a lower dance floor that we decided to take over. We had fun dancing the entire time, but I couldn’t help notice how the music never changed. Europeans are so funny about absolutely obsessing over their house music! It’s all a boots-and-cats beat the entire time and when they finally build and you think they’re about to drop it into something else, they go right back to the same deep-house rhythm.
It was Sunday morning, and the hostel provided a family-style breakfast from 11:00am to 1:00pm. I rolled out of bed quite late, thinking my friends that I had made plans to explore Prague with had probably left me. However, I was definitely the very first person that made it to breakfast and the other stragglers strolled in as I ate my rolled chocolate and banana pancake. We all shared funny stories about the night before and laughed as people remembered their experiences. We talked about our backgrounds and lives back home over our cups of hot coffee and crazy bed-heads.
We got a squad together, full of mostly people from my 4th floor hostel room, and set out walking to sightsee in Prague. Walking all the way to the main square, we watched as children played with giant bubble pools and other street performers. As we walked to the astrological clock, we saw the weirdest street performer we’d ever witnessed. It was a man hunched over into a tiny ball, where his body was made into a baby carriage and his clown-painted face poked through to meet the fake arms, legs and body that were built within the carriage. He was somehow making strange high-pitched buzzing/squeaky baby noises, blowing spit-bubbles, and rolling his tongue wildly. He kicked and screamed and sucked on a binkie as we all stood horrified. Even the children that passed by looked at him in absolute terror. They would smile and giggle for a second to try and make light of the situation, then would go back to their mortified stare. His act was almost hypnotizing as you wanted to look away, but somehow couldn’t!
As dusk set in, we made our way to the biggest bar-crawl and history tour in town. The guy leading the tour was a rowdy Jewish guy from LA and he immediately started the tour by yelling obscenities about the current tourism industry and how it was designed hundreds of years ago by academia, not for tourists that are just trying to have a good time. He started poking fun at the guests that attended the crawl and talked shit about their countries and stereotypes. He pointed at me and asked where I was from, and I quickly replied, “You’re gonna love this, Idaho!!” I honestly thought he was going to go off on me like he had done with the other people, but I think I actually stumped him by already making the I-da-hoe joke.
We finished the drunk history crawl by eating Aussie pies (basically a meat pie) and painting with stencils we had made on the Lennon Wall. The tour leader took us back to the bar he owned to try and sell us drinks, but we had other plans in mind. We set off following some hostel staff to “Sundays.” Basically, Sundays is a rave that’s held one Sunday a month in the belly of an old train station that’s no longer in use. There were only about 60 people there, but it was the perfect amount for this type of party. The station was an open-air station with tracks running every which way, old metal shrapnel and graffitied walls. People set up fire pits in basins down the tracks, sat chatting on the giant platform steps, and danced with borrowed blankets to the underground bass music.
Alena Horowitz | Miss Potato