This week on…

“Thank you for joining us for this week’s episode of…

Soul-crushing Hangovers of History (istory, istory)

Joining us today is Justin Strackany, from Austin, Texas. Nice to have you again, Justin.”

“Great to be here.”

“Now, sounds like you have quite the hangover this morning.”

“You bet your sweet ass I do, Bob.”

“Ho ho! Oh, Justin. Why don’t you tell us how it all went down.”

“Well, I finished explorning Prague at around 4:00, and wasn’t set to meet Craig and Olga until 8. So, I had some time to kill, and it was too cold and rainy out to do any further exploring.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Well, I’m getting to that. I decided that my best bet was to sit in the hostel bar and have a couple beers. The most expensive beer there is $1.57, so it seemed like a good bet. So, I drank three beers, and I noticed something very peculiar. It almost seemed…like I was…drunk!But that would mean that three beers had somehow gotten me drunk. Was that possible?

I don’t know if its the weight-loss, the lack of dinner (oops), the unusually large glasses, or the very strong beer, but this new feeling of drunkenness. I liked it!

So, I went up to my room, pitzed (and fliffer-flaffered) about on the Internet for a while, then went back to the bar for two more beers. While there, I met two Australians who were on their way out to a sponsored bar crawl. For 12 Euros, you get taken to three “exclusive” Czech bars, with an hour of all-you-can-drink at one of them. They were downing shots to get ready, and we got along pretty well. I generally really enjoy hostels. Its very much a community. There are many things you don’t have in common, but everyone there is a traveler of the same cloth. And I like that.

They invited me out with their girlfriends, but I declined, and also declined an invitation to go bar-hopping with a shy Brazillian next to me (General…exactly how many…isa Brazilian?), but met two dudes from San Antonio next to me a few minutes later. I invited them out (Alex and Rob?) and together we went on the train to meet Craig and Olga.

I met Craig at the Metro Station, and the first thing I noticed was his Czech accent…in that he didn’t have one. He was from Pennsylvania, and was working here as a software developer. We went to a pub ominously called…The Pub.

“Wow, Justin. Sounds ominous! You know? How its just called “The Pub.” Like its branding itself as the only pub? Did you catch that?”

“Yeah, Bob. I caught it. So, the owner of the bar is a very clever, clever man. Picture this:

Each bar has its own three-pronged tap coming out of the center of the table. There are also two jets where you can place your pint and wash out your glass (great for gleefully spraying the table). Above the tap is a push button control. Think bowling alley. So, each person at the table gets their own account, up to ten. When you want a drink, you click the drink button, click your account number, and then start pouring. The counter in the bar counts the number of mililiters dispensed! And keeps a running talley! So, at any point in time, you know exactly how much you’ve consumed, and at the end of the night, you’re charged by the mililiter!

Isn’t that fucking brilliant?! Every once in a while, a big screen at the front would display which table had consumed the most (we were in second place with 54 beers), and which account was winning. The tables would race each other, and compete all night. What a great idea! If this was in Austin, there would be a line around the block. So, I probably had about eight beers. Alex & Rob at one point overheard me say my age.

“Whoa! You’re31?!?!Jesus, you should be walking around with a cane!”
“Alex, would you mind if I just let that comment stand by itself for posterity, and reflect on its stupidity from time to time?”
“Ha ha…okay!”
“Yes. Ha ha.”

So, the people gradually dispersed. They had work the next day. Czechs drink more alcohol than anyone in the world, I think. It was pretty impressive.

The three Americans (myself included) left to try to find a disco, and ended up wandering drunk around the corridors of the city (my father probably just thew up in his mouth a little), but we couldn’t find anything happened, and so we took a taxi home.”

“So, how was the hangover, Justin?”

“Bob, its frighening in its power. I feel like it should have a name…like a hurricane. Hangover Andrew or something. I have bags over my eyes the size of IV’s, and my entire body smells like smoke. And for breakfast…they are serving Nescafe. Nescafe? Are you kidding me? This place bills itself as an Internet Cafe. If you don’t serve real coffee at an Internet Cafe, you should have to change your name to Internet Nescafe, cause you’re not a fucking cafe.”

“Sure thing there, Justin. Well, that’s all the time we have for today. But before we go, what’s your plan for today, Justin?”

“Well, I’m going to have to drink a couple of beers to kill the hangover, and then I think I might tour the Prague Castle. Tonight, I’m either meeting Craig and Olga again to tour some authentic Czech pubs (woot!), or I might be meeting an American English Teacher from Nebraska named Jillian to go to a club called Cross Club, which supposedly has 18 floors and mazes and shit. With my luck, it will probably be full of vampires, and blood will spray from the ceiling, and I’ll have to wait for Blade to save me, and I probably won’t even get my cover refunded.”

“Sounds great, Justin. Well, thanks everybody for tuning in. We’ll see you next time on…”

Soul-Crushing. Hangovers. Of. History (istory, istory)

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