So, there I was in Hungary. I looked to the left and saw Pizza Hut, to the right McDonald's, to the front I walked into the John Bull Pub, I was in Hungary? It was at the pub that the lads suggested Pole Bars. I didn't fall off no turnip truck yesterday, we got Pole Bars back at home, they live in the zoo! They corrected me and said not Polar Bears, POLE BARS. I knew that. We got those too; they're called strip clubs and you got the girl dangling across the pole. They said, yea, right, you want to come or not? I might be an ugly American, but I never said I wasn't sociable, so it was off to the pole bar.

It was a might fer piece to walk to the other side of town. As small as these countries are, I was afraid we might be going into another country. Nope, it was just to the pole bar. There was a doorman and I was surprised that there was no cover charge. This was a small place. It was a two-tiered bar with a stage that had a pole in the center. The bar might have held all of 20 people. I said it was small. Anyhow there was a girl up there dancing, and a few other "girls" around the room sitting with customers. We immediately ordered a round of beers. We weren't really thirsty; it was more we were hoping to blur our vision, we are talking some ugly girls here. I was once again surprised as the beers came to all of about $2 apiece. Further, there wasn't even a tip line, nor any way to tip the girls when they danced. This was one cheap strip club! Two of the girls came over to our table and seeing as we hadn't had enough to drink and our vision was still clear, we told them to keep right on moving! I looked over to the fellow next to me and suggested that the girls forgot to bring their breasts tonight. He concurred, and we left the club. Once again I was surprised, as there was no minimum number of drinks we had to order. There had been no cost to go to this strip bar except $2 for one beer.

We then moved on to Pole Bar number two. This was even slimmer pickings than bar #1. At this one, I had to laugh: there was just one girl and the barmaid. They did look slightly better than club #1, but not good enough to warrant us not buying beers. At this club, the girl --instead of dancing-- proceeded to sit on the lap of one of our guys. They were having quite the time for a while. There were four of us, so three of us watched our compadre with the girl. I was yet again amazed at this (it was necking and kissing and hugging). I was amazed that, gosh, look at all that touching, you can't do that in a US strip club and then, AND THEN, there was no charge! What the hell kind of lap dance was that, and then there was no charge? I was dumbfounded. We were still unimpressed with the quality of the girls. Like all we had done was go from butt ugly to plain ugly and there wasn't even a show at this place. So, for the cost of our $2 we were off yet again.

Now we were in Pole Bar #3. It was only slightly larger than the other two. The girls were back to butt ugly but there were a LOT of them. There were also girls going to and from the stage and dancing. After surveying the situation, I wondered, how did Hungary consolidate all the ugly women in the country into these three bars? This time, owing to the club being nearly empty, but having a large number of p... i... g... s... er, ah, I mean women, our little group suddenly had one- on- one girl companionship. It was pretty much the same drill as in the other clubs. The four of us are sitting watching the dancer on stage. Yes, there's a girl next to me, but I am pretending to ignore her. Then the ugly chick next to me (oops) the girl next to me asks me to buy her a drink. Ha, ok, here it is, the old surprise cost! They drink water and I pay for champagne; no way, ugly chick! So, one of the guys I am with buys her the $1 drink she wanted! One dollar, where's the damn profit for these strip clubs?

So, I am now all agog. I figure maybe she can tell me how these places could possibly turn a profit. I try communicating with said chick. She speaks Hungarian, German, and a tad, as in next to nothing, of English. I proceed to exhaust all the German I recall from World War II movies. She gave me very strange look when I told her to "Hander-ho" (spelled phonetically), which means for her to put her hands up. I wound up getting a "Heil Hitler!" out of her. Which got a "Hitler ist kaput" out of me. I don't think we were communicating too well, but it was very funny and everybody was laughing. Then she smiled and asked if I liked her. I said sure. To which she replied $100 for two hours. ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR TWO HOURS?! This isn't a strip joint, it's a brothel! My compatriots said, well duh, you said you had Pole Bars in the US. Not only is this a brothel, but I am now in negotiations with one of the ugliest women in Hungary about me touching her in places I don't even want to think about. (On top of all this, my European buds are all now making out with their own ugly chicks, while I (the American) am in contract negotiations. Somehow this struck me as kind of an all-too-typical American/European way of dealing with situations.) So, I told her I didn't have $100. No problem, SHE WENT ON SALE! (Attention K-Mart shoppers, red light special, aisle one!)

She's now discounting herself to me in a bidding war that I am just bound and determined to LOSE. Plus, she doesn't understand enough English for me to get rid of her. She thinks we're haggling! (Well, there was a hag, but I wouldn't gling with her. My backup plan is to yell "Achtung Gestapo!" and run like hell.) I mean, we are down to $50 and she's smiling to beat the band (at least beat something). At this rate I am going to hit zero and be fucked, literally, by the ugliest woman in Hungary! I don't need that title! It was new strategy time... as in real estate, location is a key concern in prostitution. I bet she can't leave the "bar". So, I get back to my WW II war movie German and ask "Ver ist der..." crap, didn't know what to put in there for where is the sex taking place (they weren't that kind of movies)! So, I just point at her and I ask again "Ver ist der?" She finally has a light come on over her head and says "here". I respond "Nine, mine hotel". She comes back with she can't leave the "bar". Oh, too bad, deal's off! WHEW!!!! Then, with a command to Mr. Sulu to take us out of there at maximum warp, I fled the bar of ugly women. I left so fast that my pals could not say the full word good-bye before I cleared the bar's front door.

I am now safely back in Bosnia. Ah, safe once more with minefields, snipers, and large explosive devices used to celebrate today's New Year (we're even on a different calendar here). Oh, those noise makers? We call them rocket-propelled grenades. Its nice to be home. As to Hungary and Pole Bars, anybody suggest that again and I am pulling my 9 mm!

:-P
Bad Irving