A Polish MacDonalds, smashed shot glasses and hookers
I got invited to speak at an industry conference in Krakow (awesome city, visit if you can) last year. Fancying a bit of a jolly, I accepted and it happened that quite a few other Brits were there too, either speaking or attending.

As speakers, the conference organisers fed us and paid the majority of our bar tab every night, and what the organisers didn't cover, the locals and attendees were more than happy to chip in, despite my protests. In 6 days, I spent a grand total of £80 there, and most of that was at the airport on my way back.

Anyway, I digress. The conference itself was 2 days long; I was there for 5 nights, as were the rest of the Brits (EasyJet flights are awkward and infrequent from my local airport in t'north).

After one particularly heavy night (3rd night in, I think) - where the locals in this beautiful underground bar had spent all night buying shots and smashing the empty glasses against the wall, with the bar staff not batting an eyelid - we left the bar bleary-eyed in to the evening/very early morning. Poland does not seem to have any real licensing laws; the bars just close when people have finished drinking, or when the bar men want to go home.

There is one 24 hour MacDonalds in Krakow; we knew it was close to the bar we'd just left, but could not remember where. Drunken munchies pushed us to walk around the city in search of this for an hour and a half, before we walked down a rather dark alley.

Here, many scantily clad ladies of the night were leaning against walls, lampposts and other cliche street furniture, overlooked by bulky skinheads, in the hope of doing some/the business. A particular young lady (I use 'lady' lightly; she could well have been a cross-dressing body builder from what my mind allows me to recall from that night) took such a liking to me she thought it prudent to grab my genitalia and entice me in.

I managed to de-engage my testicles from her hands fairly swiftly (well, as fast as I could without tearing vital tissue and spilling my 'nads over the street), took one look at the other Brit who hadn't given in for our MacD quest, and hastily beat a retreat (no euphemism) in the direction of a more brightly lit street.

When the missus asked how my trip had gone on my return, I may have negated to mention the street of professional ladies. After all, I quite like my testicles where they are.

tl;dr: Poland; booze, propositioned by the local professionals.
(retrac fumble in the jungle, Fri 16 Mar 2012, 17:41, 5 replies)

I'd never hide stuff like this, it can come back to haunt you in worse ways.
I go with the "Hi, we're all pissed" phone call, followed up with "they wanted me go to the strip club/ red light area with them, so I did, it was interesting and I saw some boobs but it's not as good as the movies make it look- see ya tomorrow, love ya"

Done. No comebacks, no mates dropping you in it another day, just honesty.

Unless you actually grapple a prozzie, then I don't know. Cut your cock off?
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Sat 17 Mar 2012, 1:15, closed)

this ^
really, is your missus that overweight/insecure?
( janet aylia y'all motherfuckers need jesus, Sat 17 Mar 2012, 7:20, closed)

Says you.

(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sat 17 Mar 2012, 7:34, closed)

^ yep
Apparently so. She gets edgy if I stay out late at the pub.
(retrac fumble in the jungle, Mon 19 Mar 2012, 14:13, closed)

I presume you were using EasyJet for the cost;
in which case, how was staying extra nights going to help?
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 20 Mar 2012, 14:04, closed)