Random Roamin and the Brush with Fishbone Fame
Trip Start
Apr 12, 2006
1
73
115
Trip End
Ongoing
Prague,
Czech Republic
Friday, June 23, 2006
As i walked along the gothic statue lined 15th Century Charles Bridge, transfixed by both sides of the glorious water and the skyline of amazing pointy church towers and structures, i suddenly found myself brushing against fame. Spotting an eccentric looking African American bloke in an open chested technicolour Kaftan and red Communist Beret, it all of a sudden hit me that i knew the dude - it was Anton the lead singer and sax player from legendary ska-random band 'Fishbone'. All i could say was 'Hey...Fishbone', before having a good chat with Anton and pretending that meeting him face to face was nothing out of the ordinary and not affecting me in the slightest. It was pretty cool. It was also fairly clear that Anton was considerably baked off his nut. I wondered what the odds were that i just happened to be randomly walking along the Charles Bridge at this exact point in time only to come directly across the man. Synchronicity rears its wild head once again.
Though you've probably had it up to the back teeth with my relentless ranting about the state, quality and frequency of European mullets, i feel that an additional report should be made regarding the Czech Republican contribution to this epidemic. Though far less frequent than the likes of Spain, the few mullets i have seen around Prague have been some of the dirtiest, nastiest, rat bogan calibre mullets on earth, certainly quality instead of quantity, highlighted by one sorry bloke adorned in tight black jeans and a molester moustache whom i have little doubt saw his years out in a past life in the backwaters of Frankston.
Upon return to the lavish apartment 'round sixish, i woke Pam and Phil from their afternoon nana nap and joined Pam for a trundle down to the supermarket for more supplies. Purchasing another crate of 1/2 litre bottles of Pilsener, we arrived back to the apartment to discover that Phil had misinterpreted the plan, and had also bought an additional crate of Pilsener. Looks like we were either drinking hard again tonight, or paying a return visit to the town bums and dumping them with a supply of full strength. Blimey. Cooked up a sensational stir fry with Pam, ate in style and got stuck into the icy cold beers, before stupidly returning to the phosphorescent remains of the Absinth, and knocking the rest back between the four of us.
We once again roamed the nearby cobblestoned roads and streets of central Prague, with old school red trams clunking and wizzing up and down the main drag. Checked out a fairly non-happening place called Radost FX, before foolishly follow a trio of poms to an extremely expensive and 'glamourous' club called Mecca. Mecca exemplified the sort of venue that i pretty much hate to be in, and the others weren't arguing when we gave Mecca the bird some half hour later. Cabbing back into the main core fo the city, we hit a pretty cool palce right next to the Charles Bridge encompassing five stories with five enormous rooms playing all different types of music, one which was tastefully dedicated to the 80's. By this stage i was considerably knackered, the place seemed to be totally devoid of a ventilation system, and the place was pretty much a sausage fest, as roughly 85 percent of the clientele seemed to be hungry looking blokes. My energy lacked and interest waned barring a brief three and a half minute window where the DJ churned out Europe's 'Final Countdown' and i pumped my clenched right fist furiously in the air in the name of rock. Nonetheless, i wasn't long for this sausagefest, opting to stroll home in the balminess of the Prague wee hours, accompanied by my trusty soldier Phil, talking a whole bunch of alcohol-inspired crap and cooking up bacon and eggs once we returned home to cap off the night.
Yet another fine evening in the city with claws.
