Freelancer Fireworks! Paguesters Embrace the Free Market

New Year's Eve: a Lush's Heaven, a Drunkard's Hell, a Purgatory for the Lay Man. New Year's Eve in Prague with your family? Why waitor, a little tasting of all of the above, please.

I began putting a close to the last day of 2004 with a Czech facial. The beautician's name was ________-ia, she was 20 and spoke little English. As the facial came to an end and I could no longer contain my narcy vanity any longer and burst out with "Does my skin look old?" (wink wink), she gave me what I deserved by smiling and saying "YES!"

Later that night, around 8:30...

Only once we had been seated at the tres chere "C'est La Vie" restaurant did we notice the effect of "The Business" on current Czech high livin', or at least on tourists gettin' a ride. Brother Frugal scratched his chin and looked around at this $150-a-head dining room (alcoholic nourishment not included!) and observed that half the room was staying at our hotel. Hmmm.... Brother Frugal shook his head and lifted his martini. "Screwed again". Slurp.



Indeed, cheeky Concierge Dvorkin (at the brimming-with-saucy-Brits Le Palais hotel) appeared to be getting a sweet cut of the action by rounding up all us suckers out of our rooms and sending us to this little dig (in marked-up a la carte hotel cars, nonetheless), where ketchup and bread cost $25. While Brother Frugal's theory seemed proven, the food was good. Financially comforting miniscule portions, but how else to maximize the drama of four waitors lifting silver dome covers, nodding to each other (okay, we gonna do this thing?) before the unveiling and "Voila!" Perhaps not worth $250 (mystery add-ons add up!), but hell, c'est La Vie!

WARNING WARNING! About those waitors. The top tier waitors appear to have been trained to inflect in a question mark sing song fashion (and madame for yuuoooo-OOO?!), apparently to emulate our lame way of speaking and appeal to the American love for hiding the ugly truth (i.e., we are totally padding your bill, you widowed blondie). So Generation X be warned: we must stop ending all sentences with question marks (The thing is? It was so intense I didn't even know what to do?) That means YOU, Williamsburg!

But again, enough ranting, for I am grateful for the Five best things about New Year's Eve in Praha.

Best thing #1: the goofy guy from LA (or a perfectly mastered inflection) doing magic at our table. He almost took my mom's ring-- phew!



Best thing #2: the other goofy guy from nowhere and everywhere, a travelling musician born in Winnipeg, who cranked out the goofy tunes. Billed as "The Night's Entertainment" (his first time to Prague!), this fella was one of the night's marketing features. He got better as he got drunker.



Best thing #3: FIREWORKS!!! These guys are nuts! No rules here-- just let it rip. True evidence of embracing the Free Market, it's every man for himself. Watch where you're walking-- there's a cracker under your shoe. Eat that, Giuliani.


Best Thing #4:

Later that night, around 12:30...

FINALLY, after jaws dropping at the bill and an ensuing all cast drama, Brother Frugal, Brother W and I escape from the four hour-long dinner and bust loose across the river. We catch up with throngs of youngsters and wander through winding roads like wanna-be football rioters. It's a pack of roaming L-Trainers at 6:30pm gone wild!

Best Thing #5:



Not being able to get into any clubs. Ah, the trolling of the streets looking for a club (Karlovy Lazne and its sea of peops!), or any establishment that will have you on New Year's Eve after 10pm. The more things are different, the more they are the same. New York is home and home is everywhere.