Krakow, Prague & Auschwitz: Part Two of that Time I Went to A Strip Club

So, as my father and many of my friends like to point out, my visit to Krakow, Prague & Auschwitz is NOT in fact the first time I visited a strip club (side note: that is a story for another time and place, my friends), but I digress. Let’s finish telling this story because it’s hilarious, and may the factual events of Part 1 be amended to include this update in remembered information.

Anyways, my first night in Prague on the last leg of our trip went something like this. Batman and I show up to the Hot Peppers strip club in Wenceslas Square, just around the corner from our hotel, at about 11:30 pm. A group of guys from our tour already happen to be occupying a table, one of who had traveled quite a bit with our agency in the past, who we’ll call Pizza Boy for the sake of this story. Now Pizza Boy and these other guys had already been at the joint for about 30 minutes, long enough to have already started in on the beers. The convo went a little something like this:

Me: (awkwardly) Hey, guys, what’s up? Uh, been here long?

Pizza Boy: Hey G! Hey Batman! What’s up guys? I’ve already had a lapdance and that dude over there is getting a private show in a minute.

Me: Dude, this is weird that I’m here right now. Get me a beer.

After a few minutes, it was clear to me that these guys were having the time of their lives. Batman was grinning from ear to ear as he checked out some of the ladies at the bar, and the other guys were laughing and talking as half-naked women walked around the room, sitting on laps and getting people’s attention. Only until I overheard that Pizza Boy was well on his way to securing a private room with a lady did I fully appreciate the hilarity of the situation. These broads were walking around with their tits out and I was the only female in a 30 mile radius who was wearing something to cover her nipples. I downed my beer, said adios to the boys, and left them to their wiley ways, expecting to hear all about it in the morning.

Sure enough, the next day dawned to a buffet brunch where Batman informed me that over the course of the night, Pizza Boy had managed to spend almost $500 dollars on a stripper last night (side note: PB is pretty well off but still, that’s a fuckload of money). Anyways, I got to hear all about their antics for about 3 hours straight, until I stopped the convo and moved on to more important things like visiting Prague Castle and getting some Starbucks (hey, I’m shallow and like the taste, ok?). And while the story might have gotten crazier if I had stayed to partake in the festivities of the previous night, I’m too classy a lady to be caught dead in one of those joints sober. Thanks for raising me right, parental units.

Now here’s a few mementos from Prague over the weekend:

Czech this guy out...
Czech this guy out…
Visiting the John Lennon wall.
Visiting the John Lennon wall.


Some cathedral.
Some cathedral.
That dope astronomical clock in the town center.
That dope astronomical clock in the town center.




Author: The Florence Diaries

Living in Florence means always looking out for mystery poo on the sidewalk.

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