After roughly two weeks here in Bratislava it's finally time to leave. It's been really slow in Slovakia, but I've met some good people here and had good times. Our destination? Prague. Hitlers favorite city, which is the only reason it wasn't leveled to dust like most everything else in Europe during the war. Fun fact huh? As usual I make my way to the station alone by taking the bus. And as usual Zane is late, arriving by car. I get a Subway sandwich before our bus arrives and devour it before it departs, not that I endorse Subway, or even sandwiches for that matter, which are abominations anyway you slice it, but being stuck without food on a bus or anywhere for that matter, is an undesirable situation, especially while traveling. Luckily I also had a bag of oranges for us to eat, which lasted till we ate the last two while leaving Prague's bus station. My first impressions of Prague were really very good. It is a clean city, rich in history, culture and architecture, again, thanks to Hitler, with plenty to see and do. Among Prague's other prestigious accolades are it's draw of people from all over the world for vacationing and that it has some of the cheapest and finest beer I've ever tasted, and taste it we did, repeatedly...We checked into our hostel and unloaded our bags. The whole place was themed, each room having the name of the artist who painted it on the door. Ours was peter, with a sunflower theme. Just like Hungary, the Czech Republic is outside of the European Union, thus our euros needed to be changed. We asked the young lady at the desk where we could get a good rate and exchanged some money there before heading out on the town. The first place we went was the main square, where Zane was during Christmas and incidentally where the Christmas market is held. There were a few stands set up at the end with people inside and out, handing out promotions for clubs or dealing drugs in hushed tones to those alternatively minded enough to make such a visual impression, depending on the pushers critique of you of course. We didn't buy drugs offered in hushed tones or give any serious consideration to the club promotions, we just walked on, finally coming to and crossing one of the famous bridges leading to the castle on the other side of the river that divides Prague. We got to the top of the hill, which overlooked the city in a beautiful swath of open panoramic space, then ate dinner at a monk brewery inside the old church walls. It was very strong beer, and the food was delicious. Zane said it was his first time having duck. It was all pretty pricey, but worth it. At having met our elegance quota for the day, if not the entire week, thanks to the duck and celibate recipe beer, we shifted gears and headed back to our hostel with a bottle of rum, beers, a group of Canadians and a Hungarian woman. The group of us very quickly became too loud for our surroundings and took the party to the brewery next door. There, a string of unfortunate events lead us both back to the hostel in sorrier shape than before.First, Zane and I were having a drinking contest with our 1L beers, seeing who could finish faster than the other, but I was too drunk to keep drinking so I tried giving my beer to the Hungarian woman, but Zane wasn't going to let that happen, and slapped the beer out of my hands and spilt the whole thing on the table. To which Zane started laughing uncontrollably. Then we, As in I, started yelling about this and that political thing with the Canadians, at which point they left, presumably for bed.Second, I went to the bathroom and tripped straight down the stairs nearly knocking down a waitress in my path, I curled and avoided her though. She just happened to be our waitress as well and had the stink eye on me the rest of the night, clearly with good reason. On our way out of the brewery, Zane ran and tackled me into the street, giggling as we both tumbled to the ground, but I don't remember that, the Hungarian told me the next day after I complained about how bad my ass hurt. "It was probably when Zane tackled you in the street." She said, "what, he tackled me?" I asked, totally surprised. "Oh yeah.. Pretty hard too. That's when I decided to go home, you guys were on whole other level. Do you remember what happened after that?" She asked, with mused interest. To make things easier on us both I summed up the night with," we just went out and drank more, walking a long way and then came home." All true, but completely devoid of specifics, a conversational specialty of mine usually employed by lawyers, salesman, politicians, philosophers and compulsive liars alike. What I do remember after the brewery is going to some super sleazy strip club in the same square we were earlier today, with blue tinted black lights everywhere, and shadowy characters in every corner of the establishment all thinking about the contents and limitations of things in their pants, or lack there of as it was for us. For in places like this the only thing one does is hand money to naked ladies, or leave, nothing else. So we ordered stiff drinks, finished them in a haze of cigarette smoke, watching bodies twisting and turning in ways best left to the imagination, words failing to express what is otherwise an experience held in private quarters at establishments just like this. After leaving we were immediately surrounded by shades approaching from the alleys outside the club, and were offered the same drugs by the same people as earlier, only now there was nothing hushed about their tones, no critiques or double takes in their choice of words or to whom they are spoken. If your on this street, at this hour, coming out of that strip club, your either already on drugs, or looking for some, and the guys to sell it to you are right there, they always are. So we talk to these guys for a minute and the first thing they show me is a bag of what looked like laundry detergent. Zane and I just laugh at them, pointing at the little blue balls that lined the bag. Without skipping a beat the short and stalky, leather jacket wearing dealer puts away the laundry detergent and pulls out a bag of green stuff, and when a good smell of its contents clears inspection and passes mustard I buy some before our long walk back home. Before we return to the hostel, Zane and I get pizza and veggie kebabs. Zane was out of Czech money so he used the $10 I gave to Zuzka for gas money in Bratislava, which she gave to him because she owed him $10 as well. Now Zanes using it to pay for our food.Zane woke up the next morning without any small change and swore the kebab guy just took all of the change after we got our food. I've had it happen before and we were very drunk, happens all the time. Ahh the flow of money, how creative! We then crossed the street and smoked outside the front door of the hostel, falling asleep promptly upon finishing. It was a good night, but not without it's appropriate toll.