Prague Nightlife: Serpents and Robots

One of the best things about Prague was that we saw it with T's stepbrother, who was making his way to the wedding in Slovenia just as we were, only doing so with a large backpack, an affinity for hostels, and no real plan other than his whims. T and I aren't cool enough to travel like that. At any rate, J lived in Prague for a semester in college and the city still has a hold on his heart. With J as our tour guide, we were able to see a slew of things that many other folks there for only two days might never find. J's biggest influence was a certain beer hall, but that's another post (see how I keep building the beer suspense?) After an afternoon of beers and then more beer over dinner, J took us to two of his favorite spots from his college days.

Bar #1 has a name I no longer remember. I call it the serpent bar. You'll see why. By some strange vacationing whim, we decided to try absinthe at this bar. My reaction after doing so? "There's a first and last time for everything."

When J first told us about Cross Club, our second stop of the night, the best description he could provide was, "It's like partying inside of a robot." I don't know about you, but I don't really have a frame of reference for that analogy. But sure, we're game.

This place is insane. Insanely awesome. These photos are going to seem surreal, but just imagine that most of the parts are moving, and then recalibrate your idea of surreal. (For a video tour of Cross Club, check this out.) The first shot is the entrance, in case newcomers weren't already aware there was something unusual going on inside. (Actually, I take that back - there is no way to stumble upon this place accidentally. It's out there, sitting amidst warehouses and car lots.) When you see the multi-level bar, just imagine trying to get the upstairs area with a ceiling too low to accommodate a standing adult to pass any sort of U.S. government inspection. Or trying to gloss over with Mr. Building Code guy the fact that the chance of customers impaling themselves on the walls or ceilings - you know, after jugs of beer and fiery shots of absinthe - is extremely high. What can I say? We like to live on the edge, robot-style.

Without further adieu, Cross Club.