One Night In: Budapest

It started with a harmonica battle.

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Scott and I began our night exiting a lame blues bar, escaping the bad beer and the professional bowling on tv. We head down a thin cobblestone street in Budapest towards the metro, talking about how we were enjoying this city only slight less than Brussels (later expect a post called "I Spit On Your Streets: Brussels Edition"). It was then that a sound emerged, blaring from a window above. The distinct growl of a rock guitar solo was upon us. We followed it.

The lobby was white marble. Broken pianos, guitars and brass instruments lined the walls. Inside was a similarly styled cafe with a curious spiral stair case. We followed the music up the stairs, past a small bar into what would have look like a dark conference room if it wasn't for the tiny stage, colored lights and wailing 5 piece rock band. The mix of American rock classics ("Hound Dog"), Hungarian banter and Jack Black dance moves gave the show a messed up lounge singer quality to it. The flow of performance was only interrupted when a short man from the crowd walks on stage and picks up a harmonica.

The singer/harmonica player and his new challenger stand like familiar enemies. The drums count in. What took place after that can only be described as the most ferocious Hungarian harmonica battle that two Americans have ever seen that night. The legends will speak for themselves.

Back into the cold with new enthusiasm, we head to the metro. Empty and seriously confusing, the choice was made to sneak onto the subway. Successful, we were soon out in the cold again, this time a little more lost. Our route takes us into an abandon looking industrial area. We cautiously walked through the poorly lit street. A corner appears. Smoke rises off of a crowd in silhouette. Music is close. We've made it to the entrance INSTANT!

Instant: 1. an infinitesimal or very short space of time; a moment
2. A packed 26 room warehouse sporting a maze of insanely decorated hangout rooms, dance floors and bars; as if stepping into a drunk, horny modern art painting.

The first room we entered was the enchanted forest. Trees and small strange animals all underneath a giant owl statue with boobs. We grabbed drinks and wandered. The crowd was young and international. There was a fully green room, a room made of sheet music, two big dance floors with DJs and so much more. It's the kind of place where you'd expect to fall into a secret passage way. We settle at one of the bars and start to mingle.

A couple of college girls, a foreign dude, a few brief encounters, we're enjoying the atmosphere and diverse crowd. Then we spot two douchy hipsters directly behind us. One a stupidlooking French guy in a red buttoned down accented with white birds, the other in thick glasses and white thin 1950's styled collared shirt. We discuss the possibilities of fighting out of principle but the topic is dropped when Scott discovers his new favorite thing, Strongbow (a champagne drink in individual beer bottles). We decide to hit up the game room. Games and drinks later we emerge back to the enchanted forest. Looking for more people to talk with we spot the hipster with thick glasses alone. I jokingly mention to Scott the possibilities of punching him in the face. The next thing I knew Scott was furiously marching directly at him!

Standing intimidatingly close to him, Scott begins to talk. I started to walk over and already could feel the tension. I enter as the hipster, Jeremy, started telling a hilarious story about his friend walking off with a loud annoying American chick. Things eased up, we began to joke around and get to know each other.

Jeremy is a well traveled australian in the fashion industry. If I had to describe him I'd say "he's your friend who does coke": sketchy, amiable, generous and loose yet somehow unhumbled by his many missed steps. We drank and talked about our night. Jeremy tells us about three girls he met earlier at the ATM. They told him to meet them at a club up the street called Peaches and Cream. He wanted to go, we wanted adventure.

Posh is the only way to describe it. Pretentious, stuck up, rip off, posh. That's Peaches and Cream. We enter after paying a stupidly high coat and cover fee. All white walls and white couches, a dance floor population of 90% asshole and 9% stuck up girls (there was one girl dancing hip hop who was dope. She may have just gotten off the set of "Step Up 2 The Streets") and a staff all dressed in Santa outfits. We set out to look for the aforementioned girls. Out of the dance floor and to the bar and Jeremy has already spots all three, they are behind the bar in Santa outfits! Learning he was just marketed to and not hit on, Jeremy and our's mood turns to that of fuck it.

Jäger bombs and rum and coke. Back to the dance floor. The crowd showing their true colors, wanting nothing to do with three guys looking to have fun. Its all rolling eyes and disapproving looks from eastern european giants. We get bored on the dance floor. Scott decides to introduce us to three girls by throwing a pillow at them. The lack of humor is astounding. Fuck this posh bullshit.

Back to Instant! More drinking erupts. Jeremy and I spot two cute girls in the enchanted forest, one blonde and brunette. We say hello and start up a conversation. The brunette plays coy and knowing in flirtatious way, she and Jeremy talk. The blonde is honest and friendly with a great smile, we talk. They are Hungarian and have been friends since childhood. They go to different universities now but are traveling locally for a bit. The three of them want to smoke so we relocate to the smoking bar. The blonde pulls out a pack of cigarets with the word "freedom" written on it in big Sharpey letters. It's around 4am at this point so the finer details of the conversation have escaped me.

Meanwhile on the dance floor, Scott has been grinding hard with a hot little Spanish girl. After a few songs of intense dancing she pauses and points to the guy directly behind her. "This is my boyfriend" and she disappears. Scott then gets hit on by two gay men. They buy him three rounds of red shots called "blood of bitches". He appeared in the smoking bar after an hour, very drunk and a little shaken. The two Hungarian girls ultimately shut us down. I was denied a kiss with a very decisive "no". Jeremy settled for giving the brunette girl his email address.

Defeated and very drunk we finally exited Instant. Outside there was a small group of guys trying to fight with a blonde dude. They are trying to kick and egg him on. We decide to join in! Wanting to even up the numbers we jumped next to the blonde guy, get his back and get ready for a brawl. We started pushing and yelling at the other group who, after seeing the numbers even up, back down. The blonde guy laughs his ass off at the situation, he was the only one of a bunch of drunk guys who didnt wanted to fight yet he ended up smack in the middle of one.

We finally decided to call it a night. We find a tiny pizza place so sketchy they refused to let us inside. Instead they slide us pizza through a cracked window. Jeremy then invited us to go back to his place for wine. I could immediately tell that Scott's mind was also racing with possible terrible outcomes (doing coke and waking up in a tub of ice among them). Politely, we declined.

We walked in what at least felt like the right direction of our hostel. We come across a playground.

Somewhere in Central Budapest, 530am: Two drunk Americans laugh and yell as they spin endlessly on rusted metal playground swings.