3.17.2006

CHAPTER 6 - A Night Out

ONE evening, towards the beginning of December, Kim and I decided to go out on the town. I forget what day it was exactly, but seeing as we went out for some beer and wherever serendipity might guide us through the streets of Prague, it must have been a typical Friday night or Saturday. Or Sunday. Maybe even Monday. Hell, it may have been any day of the week seeing as that’s what we did most every evening anyway. We decided that the night’s festivities, however, would be rather subdued and so we took the bus and Metro to the center in search of a quiet pub and conversation.
"Have you been to any nice pubs in this neighborhood yet?" Kim asked as we stepped off the subway at the Náměstí Republiky station.
"No, can’t say that I have."
"Well, not to worry. A lot of places here are a bit pricey, but there are a lotta great finds too."
I nodded in silent agreement as we stepped onto the escalator bound for street level.
"In fact, the great thing about Prague – well, all of the Czech Republic – is that you never have to search far for good cheap beer. It’s everywhere! Ha ha!"
"Let the good times roll. Just lead the way, Kim my man."
We stepped into the frigid fall night, fastened the top button on our coats, and stood there as Kim tried to remember which way we should go. The streets looked surprisingly busy for so late in the evening, but it was all one of those grand end of the year illusions – when it's only 6PM but you could swear that it was already past midnight. I rubbed my hands together for warmth as a tram stopped before us and then thrust them deep into my pockets.
"This way I think... Yeah, this way. To the right."
We hadn’t gone but five steps when I took one of my hands out its warm lair and placed it on Kim’s cold shoulder. "Hold on," I pulled him aside.
"What? What is it? You know a better way to get there?"
"No, no." I paused and pointed to where a slight crowd waiting for the tram had just been. Nearly all of the patient commuters had disappeared as the tramcar was now carrying them to their destinations. A few, however, were still waiting at the stop. "Over there. At the tram stop next to the bench. Isn’t that Herman?"
Kim took a closer, detailed look at the man leaning against the wall and agreed. It was Herman. That crooked nose and moustache couldn’t belong to anyone else. We made our way over to him but he failed to notice us. He took his hands out of his big blue ski jacket pockets and started fumbling through a backpack that he had rested by his feet.
"Surprise!" came out of Kim’s mouth. "What’s up, Herman?!"
Herman found what he was looking for but didn’t remove it as he cautiously looked up in order to inspect who it was that had just greeted him. "Oh, hey guys. Dobrý večer." He took out a bottle quarter-filled with vodka, stood up, and resumed his former leaning position against the wall. "Want some?"
"No thanks."
"Your loss," while he unscrewed the top. "Bottoms up! ...Ahh!"
"So, what are you doing out in this cold, Herman?" Kim asked.
"Fucking bitch... she never showed up. Been waiting here for a goddamn hour and the FUCKING kurva never came."
"Who?"
"This sexy nineteen-year-old I used to teach. Oh man guys, you should see the tits on this chick. She’s got such a nice body and that ass too... Ježiš Maria!"
"Ha ha! You got stood up and you’ve been waiting here in the cold all alone, haven’t you? Did she call you at least?"
"Nevim. My mobile didn’t ring though. I just decided to wait. Nevim." He offered us another drink. This time we accepted a small swig. It would keep the cold away. He then downed about two shots worth and wiped his moustache with his sleeve. "WOO! That’s good... FUCKING kurva!"
"Don’t worry about it," Kim assured him. "She probably just forgot. How long ago did you agree to this date?"
"This morning! That FUCKING kurva!" he spat and yelled at the same time.
"HA HA! I love it when you get angry! Forget it, Herman. Let’s just all go out together. You, me, and Paul. Okay?"
"Oh, okay, I guess. That sounds fine. Finish this vodka first though. Then I know a great little pub right down the street. I was going to take that fucking kurva there. Tak, nazdraví!" Herman lifted the bottle again as he wrapped his lips around it, emptying it once and for all. "This way gentlemen," he stumbled to the front and took the lead.
"Hey Kim, what’s that word he keeps saying?" I asked as we followed.
"What word?"
"I think he’s calling that girl that stood him up something. I’m not sure. Come on. You know. Fucking gurva or something."
"Ha ha! You mean kurva. It’s whore, or bitch," Kim laughed. "That Herman’s great!"
"What was that, guys?" Herman turned and asked.
"Nothing Herman. We were just talking about that FUCKING kurva," I replied.
"Fucking kurva..." he mumbled and turned back around, leading us into the cold Prague night.

Herman asked the two ladies something in Czech and punctuated it with a polite prosím. They, both in their early 60s and sipping red wine, nodded approvingly and continued their conversation as if undisturbed. Herman then motioned us to sit down at the same table as the women. People share tables with strangers all the time in the Czech Republic. At bars, cafés, even restaurants – if there’s a seat free, all you have to do is kindly ask if it’s taken.
A member of the bar staff came by and we all agreed to beer. "Tři Pilsner Urquell," Kim ordered as the waiter tore out a piece of paper from his notepad, placed it next to us, and slashed it with his pen three times.
"Now that’s class. They’ve got a great bookkeeping system in these pubs. Say, how would I go about asking for a receipt at this place?" I asked facetiously. Kim and Herman didn’t seem to pay any attention to my remarks. I suppose that the torn-piece-of-paper-that-stays-on-your-table-and-keeps-tab-of-how-many-drinks-you’ve-had-while-soaking-up-spilt-beer had become second nature to them.
By the time the beers arrived, Kim had struck up a conversation with Herman comparing and contrasting Czech women with Korean ones. The topic sounded interesting enough, so I sat there expounding on their theories whenever I felt qualified enough to interrupt. Herman took an interest initially, but by the time we got around to finishing our third beer, the topic didn’t intrigue him whatsoever.
He stared off into the distance as Kim and I continued talking when, unexpectedly, "Ale prosím tě. To je neni pravda!"
"Co že?" one of the older ladies at our table replied.
"To je neni pravda!!" Herman slammed his hand on the table and stared her straight in the eye.
Kim and I were both taken aback by the suddenness unfolding before us. I rolled a cigarette and leaned back in my chair, unsure but eager to see where this would lead. Herman continued to speak at the woman with a holler-like tone. She would retort by furling her brow, returning her piercing gaze, and throwing out short but emphatic replies. Soon, the other woman had become involved in the argument as well. Kim and I simply watched.
"Hey man, what’s all this about?"
"Well, I’m not too sure exactly. They’re speaking pretty fast. But Herman is definitely calling the one lady a liar."
"Why?" I continued.
"It seems like he’s saying something about her husband. Hold on, let me listen more closely a bit."
Kim inconspicuously leaned forward and followed what was quickly turning into a tennis match of insults and shouts. "Yep, Herman definitely insulted her husband. But I don’t think he realized it. Ha! He still doesn’t!"
"Fuck. What did he say?"
Herman and the two women continued to bicker as Kim’s whisper became barely audible. "Not sure... Herman’s saying her husband’s a drunk... She’s saying he’s not, but Herman... What a character!"
I puffed away at my cigarette while the argument got louder and louder when, out of nowhere, one of the ladies leaned over the table and smacked Herman right across the face. It wasn’t a mighty blow but it was so unexpected that Herman fell silent for a few seconds as his palm caressed the violated cheek. He just sat there, unsure of what to do, staring at his attacker. He then slammed a clenched fist on the table and spat "You FUCKING KURVA!!!" out as violently as he could.
Herman pushed his chair out and assumed a threatening stance. I quickly made my way through the now hushed pub towards the counter and paid what our party owed. Meanwhile, Kim stood behind Herman and placed a calm-down-let's-get-out-of-here hand on his shoulder. The two 60-or-so year old ladies had already prepared themselves for an attack by transforming their handbags into potential swinging weapons of destruction. Fortunately, Kim managed to usher Herman towards the exit without any further altercations. I followed them. The women began mumbling something in a spiteful tone. Herman then turned around and retorted with some Czech obscenities that resonated in the silence. Kim and I finally managed to escort him completely outdoors and, as we once again stood in that cold Prague night, I could hear the chaotic speech of beer-swilling patrons return from within.
"What the hell was that all about, Herman?"
"See, Paul. There’s something you have to understand about these Czech women. They’re all FUCKING kurvas! I been all around Europa and they don’t get no more beautiful than here, but..." he paused for a second. I thought it was for dramatic effect. He belched out some gas that could have intoxicated a small child and continued "...pozor! They’re only one kurva after the other!"
"What’s a pozor?"
"WARNING Paul!!! Be careful! Nothin’ but FUCKIN’ KURVAS!" as he waved his index finger cautiously in my face.
Normally, I would have pressed Herman further on what had just happened. Why did he start the argument? What were its particulars? What kind of names were the old ladies calling him? But seeing as the evening’s beers had already begun to go to my head, the "kurva" explanation seemed more than plausible. Besides, Kim was leading us to another pub where he thought there might be topless waitresses.
He was right. We walked in, found an empty table, removed out coats, and sat down. Two breasts brought us three beers and left a piece of paper on the table with three slashes.
Herman elbowed me gently as she left the table and pointed out that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her apron either. "You see? They’re all FUCKING..."
"I know, I know. Cheers!"
"Nazdraví!!!"
Fifteen minutes passed without a hitch but soon Herman was at it again.
"Hey Kim? What kind a place is this? Ježiš Maria! I mean, just look at these girls! That one. What the hell is that?!"
"What about her?"
"Look at those tits! Half way to her knees and it seems like a steamroller ran ‘em over. Shit!" He slumped over his beer a bit but still kept his eyes on the waitress.
"What are you talking about? That waitress is fine. Besides, you should see Korean women. You probably have bigger tits."
Herman glanced down at his chest in drunken confusion and delicately felt each of his breasts. "Yeah, yeah. But I’m in Praha." He looked up at the waitress again, "THAT kurva is disgusting!"
"Sure, you’re probably right," Kim capitulated. "The chick you were supposed to meet must have been a lot better."
Herman lit up. "Ty vole, guys! You should’ve seen the tits and ass on her. Ooo, what I would do with..."
"HA!" Kim stared straight into his bloodshot eyes. "You didn’t cause she stood you up! But you’ve got tits in front of you now. So shut up, drink, and enjoy them!"
Herman threw a cold look at Kim, then to the waitress he had been talking about. "Fucking kurva," he slurred as he fell silent and concentrated on the task at hand – getting drunk.
A couple of beers later, Herman was out cold. He rested his arms and head on the table as breasts, included those he had insulted, continued running back and forth filling orders. He started snoring when Kim pulled out a joint.
"You smoke?"
"Not really, but what the hell. In here though?"
"Ha ha! This is the Czech Republic. They don’t care at all. Of course you can’t smoke in some places, but I’ve done it in here before... I think. Trust me, no problem."
I hesitantly agreed to Kim’s suggestion to light up at our table and soon expected the big barman with dragon tattoos wrapped around his arms to approach us. But nobody seemed to mind. He kept pouring the drinks. The waitresses kept serving them. And the patrons kept looking into their nipples while thanking them for the service.
"Wow. No one gives a shit. Incredible!" as I took a small drag.
"This ain’t your fascist America anymore. Welcome to Prague, Paul. Welcome to Prague."
"Yeah," I rolled that around a bit in my head. Welcome. Prague indeed. "Say, Kim, why did you come here?" I mean, you know, the Czech Republic and all?"
"HA HA! Cheap beer and cheaper women!!"
"Good one, good one... But no, I was serious," I asked after we had both stopped laughing.
"So was I!" he quipped.
"Come on now, man. I mean, why here? Why not back in Korea or maybe even the States again? Is there something drawing you here? Something special? Something magical?" demanding an earnest answer.
He took a sip of his beer and wiped the smile from his face. "Well, okay. I guess, this city inspires me. Every time I play the guitar here, it’s like it speaks to me. I can’t get that anywhere else. Not in Korea, not in the States... Did you know I played the guitar?"
I shook my head.
"Yeah, classical guitar. Sometimes, I just stay up all night in the Dum. In the stairwell actually. Great acoustics there. And I just play some Mozart all night. I mean... I love it!"
"Come on. You seriously mean to tell me that the only reason you traveled halfway across the world and ended up here, in Prague out of all places, is because your guitar sounds good here?"
"Not good. GREAT!"
"Yeah, well okay. But still there must be..."
"Well, and..." he interrupted me but stopped short and just sat there.
"And what?"
Kim looked intently into my eyes. His gaze pierced me. He took a hold of his beer, lifted it, and signaled a toast. We clinked glasses, took a sip, and then he broke the silence. "The beer is cheap and the women are cheaper," without even the slightest hint of a smile on his face.
At that very moment, Herman lifted his head from the table and revealed a small puddle of drool beneath it. He looked around deliriously, then at us and, finally, through his pockets. "Shit guys. I’m goin’ home." He called over the waitress he had been talking about earlier and asked her something. She crossed out a few slashes on the beer-drenched tab-paper sitting on our table and he handed her 48 korunas in change. He stared at her breasts for a moment, hesitated, and then said something else to her in Czech. She suddenly slapped him across the cheek and stomped away.
"FUCKING kurva," he spat as Herman pulled himself up from the table and stumbled towards the door.

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