Marquis DeSade

Last night we (Angie, Jillian, Catherine & myself) went to two bohemian hangouts behind Old Town Square: Chateau & Marquis DeSade. Both are expat bars, recommended by the locals themselves. A few of us actually went there Monday, checked out the scene. Very cool bars. We made a new friend, Jack Fan, a law student from Texas who is interning in Prague. He's only been here a few days. You'd never guess. He talked like he knew it all. (About the local bar scene, at least.) Anyway, Jillian got an email the next day from Jack Fan, letting us know about a rumor for Thursday night. We took a chance.

Even though Sin City came out months ago in the States (and kind of flopped as I recall) yesterday it opened in Prague. We've been seeing posters for it EVERYWHERE. All month. Chateau & Marquis were hosting the Sin City premier parties. And we were determined to meet some stars.

The shades were drawn on the Marquis windows, leaving only the door to see in, with its signs saying "Private part, invite only". We hesitated. Bad move. So we retreated to Chateau around the corner, where we spent the next two hours with Czech beer, big screen clips of Sin City, and people dressed in costume (all black, fake machine guns, red lipstick). The downstairs was closed off, guest list or ticket only. We watched old people and young people and not-so-attractive people go down and wondered--how come we can't get in?? We started giving Angie a pep talk, convincing her that we should go back to Marquis and she should flirt with the bouncer, giggle, bat her eyelashes, insist that our friend is inside waiting for us. A glass of white wine later, she was prepped.

So over the cobblestone in the rain, back to Marquis, no hesitation. We walked right in the door. And were stopped. We tried to tell the bouncer our friend invited us, he was waiting. The bouncer asked us to step outside so he could hear us (loud DJ). No sooner had we stepped out, than a man we recognized vaguely from earlier this week told the bouncer to let us in! He insisted we were his friends. (He didn't talk to us all evening, but whatever.)

And thus the story of how we got into the Sin City private premier party in Prague and did jello shots with Clive Owen.

Yeah right. That's our story anyway. The truth was, no stars. Unless you count the larger-than-life Bruce Willis banner hanging down the wall. Just a DJ, a fashion show on the bar, some good Czech beer, and our old friend Jack Fan. Not to mention a really fast and frightening taxi ride home. Many more amusing details, people, sights. But I'm still recovering from my lack of sleep, and that's all I can manage. Only one more week in Prague. The city is exhausting, completely wearing me out. And yet, I'm not sure I'll be ready to go home...