Finnarna i prag

Från Basvrak

Classic story from alt.drunken.bastards, archived here to be able to find it again.

Unfortunately I do not have the original poster's name or address.

One afternoon I was just thinking I have to wake up and start working
when my publisher called me and said:"Come here, let's drink."

So I took a taxi and went there and we drank. We drank all that night
and about 4:00 the publishers wife got mad and we had to gou out to
the freezing Finnish night. No place was open - if there had been any
open place we would have been there istead of the publisher's house
with that mad woman of his. So the puplisher who's got the vallet got
an idea. "Let's go to the airport - there is that restaurant which is
open 24 hours a day."

That was a good idea. So we took a taxi an went to the airport (it was
about 20 miles and on the way we drunk the last rye we got in a
hip-flask.  But the airport restaurant was closed. The only open place
was the bar, but to get there you had to have a flyingticket and a
passport because it was behind the customs zone.

"We are going there," the puplisher said nodding to the bar.  "We've
got no tickets or passport," I reminded.  "It's only a matter of
organizing thinks," the puplisher said and started to the taxis ouside
the terminal.

So we took a taxi to his house and the to my house and it took about
an hour and 200 bucks. But then we were again in the airport and we've
got passports. So the puplisher went to the ticket counter and said to
the lady there:"We want tickets."  "On which flight?"  "Any flight -
just give us two tickets." "There is a flight at 7:00 to Prague..." "

So we take two tickets to that flight, and hurry, please, 'cos we are
thirsty!" Well, of course we were thirsty because it had been over an
hour since that last drop of rye.

So that friendly lady sold us two tickets and we hurried to the bar
and got two big beers and two whiskyes and felt like heaven. We drank
beers and whiskies and talked about Prague. The publisher had been
there twice, I not once. He told me that it was a beautiful city and
there was good beer and cheap sausages. I felt I could eat some
sausages because I get allways hungy when I drink all night. So we
drunk more beer and whiskies and that's when my memory starts to
flaw... I mean I'm not sure if we actually decided to go to Prague or
not, but next I remembre that we sat in the plane and drunk some beers
and whiskies.

"Didn't take my toothbrush..." I said as the plane started
landing. "It's only a matter of organizing," the puplisher said and we
had to stop drinkin for the landing.

In Prague's airport there is a nice little bar in the second
floor. There's no lift and the steps are quit steep if you are
drunken, but with a little help of friendly passengers thei could be
made quite easily.  In the bar was this drunken bastard from Texas,
whose every other word was 'fuck'n'. "I fuck'n lost my fuck'n
friends," he told us. "Where? Here at the airport?" "No, no, fuc'n no,
it was some fuck'n town there in the fuck'n Russia". "So what are you
goin to do?" "I'm goin' to fuck'n drink!"

We liked hes attitude and we started to drink with him. There was no
white man's bools in that bar. For some reason they sold only Tchek
drinks. Scott had found some black liniment which was strong and
tasted like caught medicine. We drank that about one and a half
bottle.  Next thing I remember was when we drove in a Taxi in Prague
and were looking for sausaces. Scott sung; he's got a booming voice.