Poland

a couple weeks old….from when we went to Poznan…
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So I am going to just fess up right now. I was 100% wrong about Poland. The way I wrote it up last time I made sit seem like I expected to be met on the border by a toothless prostitute and her track suit wearing pimp; both pulling on Mason jars of home-made Polish shine. And while I’m sure those people exist somewhere, the Poland I saw was nothing short of a tier one country with all the trappings of modernism and growth. The highways were world class, black and smooth and endless. There were modern corporate HQ’s lining the road and service stations as massive and bright and bustling as any I have seen in California. An army of truckers hogged the pavement, filling the air with a sense of progress and purpose.

Poznan itself was an old medieval town with an intact old city. The square of course was lined with beautiful architecture and the streets surrounding were a maze of cobble that confounded you a bit as they changed their minds about which direction they wanted to take you.

And it was fucking cheap. We stayed in a fancy hotel right about a block from the square for about 90 Slooty’s a night each, which is about what you pay for a hostel in Berlin. We had dinner and got boozed at a fancy restaurant called the Bro-varia for about 24 Slooty’s. And it was the best food I’ve had in a long time. Pierogis and potato pancakes and steaks and sausage, all mixed with two mugs of frothy homemade Polish brew. Then we went to the club and man danced till 4am. At one point Peter came out to the dance floor with two trays of shots because he happened to order at the exact right moment when it was 4 for 1, which I think is bullshit. I think they always do that, because in Poland, albeit modern and thriving, Vodka still flows from the taps in this place. They even have one brand of Vodka called Blue Bols, which turned into into an Engligh lesson, trying to explain to Andre what the fuck Blue Balls were. His vocabulary is so full of American slang now that I’d almost afraid of loosing him into a dinner party thinking it’s normal to use “bro”, “homie”, “blue balls”, “prozzi’s”, “dawg” or “hella” in between every other word.

That same night, we also learned a bit about Polands greatest asset, their endless supply of drop dead gorgeous women. At the Bro-varia there was a table of maybe 20 girls all sitting and laughing and drinking beer. They were kind of half hidden by a wall, so all we got to see of them was when they would run up individually to pay their tabs. And it was fucking unbelievable. One after another gorgeous racks of tits, angel faces, and tight asses emerged from around the bend and every time we would hoot that she was our new favorite and that the fount must be coming to an end. But then another one would come around and we’d do it all over again.

On the way home Peter and Andre got into a fight when Andre repeatedly kicked his foot into Peters ass, the toe hitting the natcha I presume because after 4 kicks, Peter lightning chopped Andre in the nose with his ninja skills and Andre walked the whole way home with his hand on his face. Andre was already in a bad mood because we had called a girl he was dancing with ugly.

“Andre, what was that girls name?”, Peter would stat out.

“First name Foo, last name Glee”, I’d quip back, which was a good way to do it because Andre doesn’t know that Fugly is short hand for Fucking Ugly, which his girl was. She had already prostituted herself to me and Peter and because Andre is a gentleman and we are not, he danced with her while me and Peter drank Blue Balls on the rocks and giggled on the sidelines. We even had them almost in a cab together when she got last minute “ho-conscience” because her friend was there and send Andre packing. Anyway, this led to us calling her Fugly, which led to Andre kicking Peter in the asshole, which led to Andre walking home with a red nose.

The next day we found a mall that was nice than any I’ve seen in California. It was maybe 7-8 stories full of Gucci, Prada, Bang and Olufsen, and iMac stores. The women were all princesses, for a second I forgot I was in Poland and not LA. Seriously.

That night, we sent Andre back to the hotel because he cannot drink 2 nights in a row. We found an off the beaten path bar that at first looked like an Irish pub. But it was never-ending. The Irish Pub had a door in the back which led to more pub, which led to stairs, which led to a second floor secret bar, and then through the hallway was a dance floor where a DJ was mixing up hip hop. We sat at the bar for 3 hours and drank countless vodka/apples for me and vodka on the rocks for Peter. At one point the lights went because a breaker blew and the place was sheer darkness. It was actually terrifying for a moment because we were like 12 chambers deep into the bar and would be doomed in a stampede for the door. The bartenders pulled out their cellphones and used the LCD’s to try and switch the breakers back on. At one point they shoved a vodka bottle under the breaker to try and keep it open. This worked for a few minutes, but the lights kept going on and off. So more and more Polish people crowded themselves into the space beneath the bar and offered their advice on how to fix it. It was like walking into a bad Polish joke..”how many Polacks does it take to fix a broken light?” In the end, this Polish girl, all full of sass-a-frass and attitude got down there and fixed it with her thong hanging out in the wind, then acted as exasperated because she could fix it when none of the boys could.

With the music restored, we found our way to the dance floor where Pete and I showed some Polish girls how to dance drunk American. We even almost got into a dance off with one of the girls’ brother who danced like Usher, but was otherwise cool with us dancing nasty with his sis.

We came back and fucked with Andre a little bit before falling asleep.

The next day we did tourist shit like buying postcards and checking out the old Citadel, where we saw a collection of old Rooskie tanks and some Mig jets.

On the way out of town we stopped at the grocery store and bought all the Polish Kielbasa we could afford with our left over Slooty’s. The whole next week every time I walked into the kitchen Peter would be cooking up two or three of them for a snack.

Then disaster hit.

While taking a piss at the border between Poland and Germany I stepped directly into a pile of dog shit. Of course, I’m oblivious to this and get back in the car. Peter goes, “Dub, I think you stepped in shit bro”, to which I got all defensive and declared impossible. But sure enough I had done it. So I got out and used the bucket of window washing suds to clear it off my heels and got back in the car. End of story right. Not with Andre and Peter. The whole way home, Peter and Andre are ganging up on me…saying shit like, “Damn J-Dub, I can still smell that shit…how do you step into shit and not know it..?” I’m the asshole right. Peter, who was driving even swore he was getting a headache from it. Well, it was only an hour till Berlin, so we made it soon enough. We unpack the car, get upstairs, and sit on the living room couch. Andre goes to take a piss, and it’s just me and Peter. Just then, I take a whiff and god damnit, I can still smell dog shit too. This has got to be some of the strongest, most potent dog crap ever…to survive the soapy suds and an hour drive. What the fuck was that hound eating?? But before I can even say anything, I see Peter look down at his shoe. His face turns up in disgust, but at the same time he is unable to hold back the laughs. Caked to the bottom of Peter’s shoe is a sold half inch of dog shit. One of the worst violations of stepping in feces I have ever seen. So the whole time that Peter was driving and saying how bad it smelled, like I was the dumbass, Peter was actually the bigger dumbass with a pound of shit on his shoe without even knowing it. And then to make matters worse he tracked it into Andre’s apartment.

Pete, laughing like a school girl, runs to put the shoes outside the apartment, and makes me promise not to tell Andre. I am good friend and don’t tell. But Andre of course, since he is a German man, investigates and makes the discovery the next day. He even leaves us a little note and some cleaning supplies on the kitchen table asking us to swiftly “clean the sheisse” out of his car.

So Poland was sick, had a blast, got to see the MutherLand and all that. Can’t wait to check out Warsaw and Krakow….next time need to just be careful where I stand.