To The Nightclub in Prague That Played “Smells Like Teen Spirit”

So this is what it’s like, I thought, to feel liberated.

Old Town Prague

The club is packed, Saturday night. Lights are dim but colors flash here and there. We have had enough pilsner to feel loose but not lost.

1992, three years after the Velvet Revolution, one year before Czechoslovakia dissolves into two countries. Democracy rips through the country: free speech radio stations, small business popping up on every block, free market, free press and this, the capital city, can’t contain the sheer joy of it all.

“Load up on guns and bring your friends

It's fun to lose and to pretend

She's over-bored and self-assured

Oh no, I know a dirty word”

We move onto the dance floor. I’ve known this kind of freedom my whole life. But here, tonight, all anyone talks about, thinks about is freedom. Doing. Being. Think of the possibilities. They can think of nothing else.

“With the lights out, it's less dangerous

Here we are now, entertain us

I feel stupid and contagious

Here we are now, entertain us”

We are in Old Town, off the St. Charles. Centuries-old buildings cluster in the middle of the city. Bohemians don’t like to fight and despite all the wars in Eastern Europe, they refuse to let their city be a casualty. A Velvet Revolution. Old Town is lush that way. A living Mucha painting. Nothing stands still. Everything breathes.

Mucha Poster

“And I forget just why I taste

Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile

I found it hard, it's hard to find

Oh well, whatever, nevermind”