Via Prague: 'Excuse me, what sort of place is this?'

On a recent evening, a well-dressed couple, both middle-aged, entered a cafe in Prague.
They were tired, having just checked into their hotel nearby. The man was distinguished looking, despite his attempt to dress down in traveler's gear; the woman was handsome and florid, with outward-squinting crow black eyes.
In fact, upon entering the pub the woman's eyes immediately began to search through layers of thick smoke hovering over the heads of the customers. The bar is full. The man, with a disconcerted look, tries to usher the woman out, but with her curious, insistent expression she waves him to stay.
There's a din of conversation, mostly in Czech with a bit of Russian from a table of Ukrainian workers, a sprinkling of English. On a large TV mounted in a corner, something is playing. It's a documentary about women undergoing breast implant surgery.
'We'll just stay for one,' the woman says, in a clipped Coventry accent, still peering around.
'You smell that?' the man says meaningfully. A pungent odor drifts past. At the next table a group of people are passing a joint. The woman pretends not to notice.
The barman, having eyed them carefully for a minute, comes over. His name is Franta, and a two-day growth of stubble stretches on his cheeks as he greets them with a smile.
'Do you speak English?' the woman asked.
'A little,' Franta said.
'Could we have two highballs, please?'
Franta looks confused.
'Sorry?' He leans closer.
'Highballs,' both the man and woman say, in distinct tones.
'Sorry,' the barman shrugs helplessly.
'It's all right,' the woman says brightly.
'Perhaps a bourbon,' says the man.
'What?'
'Bourbon? Do you have bourbon?'
After a second, Franta frowns and shakes his head slowly.
'Sorry.'
'Well, then, what do you recommend?' the woman asked.
'We have only beer -- and cola.'
'OK, make it two beers, then.'
'A small one for me,' the woman said.
As Franta went to the bar, the couple looked around some more. The place was dark, and all the tables were full. At virtually every table people were either smoking joints or in the process of rolling joints. A couple young guys blazed in, scarfs around their necks to keep out the chill. 'Cau Franta!' they cried.
'Cau!'
'Cau!'
'Ahoj!'
'Ahoj!'
The young men hovered at the bar for a few minutes, while Franta poured the beers. Then Franta wiped his hands and went over to the far end of the bar to greet the young men. They had a quick conversation, then Franta did something behind the bar, and the two men handed him some money. Then they were leaving, one of them clutching a small bag.
'Cau!
'Ahoj.'
Franta brought the beers over to the couple. Up on the TV screen, a stoutish, not unattractive woman in her forties was stripping off her shirt and bra. Her newly enhanced breasts, with large dark nipples, bulged heavily and jiggled on the TV screen. The woman was explaining, in Czech, the details of her surgery. She seemed proud of the new breasts, almost like someone showing off their new car, going over the trimming and interior.
'Excuse me --' the English woman asked, as Franta set the mugs down. 'What sort of place is this?'
'Sorry?'
'What -- what sort of place is this?'
On the screen the woman was putting her shirt back on. At the next table, a freshly rolled joint was being lit and passed.
Franta shrugged.
'Is it a movie bar or something?' the woman asked helpfully.
'Yes,' Franta said, looking at the screen.
'Can we order dinner?' the man asked. He had been flipping through an ancient menu.
'Yes,' Franta said.
'I'd like this,' the man said, pointing.
'Sorry.' Franta shrugged helplessly.
'You don't have it?'
'No, sorry.'
'Well, what do you have?'
'I mean,' Franta said. 'We have chicken.'
'Chicken?'
'Yes.'
'Oh well, never mind.'
'No?'
'No, thank you.'
The couple took a few obligatory sips of their beer, the woman still looking around, the man trying not to watch the TV screen, where the same woman, now with her doctor, was stripping again.
'Shall we go then? the woman asked.
'Yes, let's.'
The man went to the bar, handing Franta a 50 crown note.
'Keep it,' he said.
'Thank you.'
The couple was already well on their way to the door. They left without looking back.
One of the guys handed Franta a joint. He took a puff, leaned back and watched the TV. The woman was displaying her breasts for the doctor, who pressed and prodded and listened to the woman.
'That's good service,' someone said.
Franta laughed and puffed on the joint.
'Good service.'

Via Prague

Literary and other offerings from former Times-Standard reporter James Tressler, who is living, teaching and writing in Prague.

'Excuse me, what sort of place is this?'

Comments

Post a comment