Lethal8472
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Is this what europe is like? This is taken directly from her journal. The trip took place earlier in the summer as part of a school organized trip:
Some of my friends from school recently went on a school organized trip to Europe...this is their story:
So, I've been back from Europe for a bit and had a few connection problems, but now I am officially back in action. I ended up not attending MillionManLan due to 6 hour time loss and Jetlag, getting 1 hour of sleep in over thirty hours. When I got home, I ended up falling asleep at about 4:30 PM accidentally, and waking up at 8 AM the next morning not knowing what day it was, having slept like the dead. So too bad... next year before college, I must attend!
I have no idea exactly where to start... so perhaps I'll start by entering a passage from my journal that I kept there. It's a song called the "Twelve Days of Europe", themed after a lot of our bad luck [nowhere near touching all of it]. It was written behind a jizz littered service station near Rome, Italy. We swept away at least 4 condoms from the sidewalk so we could sit down for a bit and play charrades and all that. You see, our bus had split a diesel line and we were smoking out our asses, we pulled over into the service station when we alerted Guiseppe our bus driver [awesome mofo!].
So here it is, frustration in a basket: The Twelve Days of Europe.
On the ___ day of Europe, my Tour Guide gave to me....
1. Blind French Midget with a cane.
2. Pubs with fish and chips
3. English Soccer Hooligans
4. Barf Bags for Jasmine
5. Leaps over Dog Shit
6. Ways to say 'how you doooin'
7. Watches for Elena
8. Hours in a metro
9. New hair appliances
10. ways to ignore american food
11...thousand stairs to climb
12. new adventures for our grandchildren.
And this all relates to us. Especially the English Soccer Hooligans... England lost to France while we were in london and one of our group members almost got the shit beaten out of him.
More stories some other time...I don't know where else to being.
Next Part:
Allow me to take this moment to describe the European hotels in meticulous detail.
Now that we have that in order, I'd like to start off with our hotel in London.
The London Hotel (Kingsway)
This hotel had a mighty six stories or so. I'd like to know how I end up with the top every time? In any case, that's where I was placed with my friend Anna. On the top floor, it is more blistering hot than the rest of the hotel... none of them had air conditioning. In any case, since I was 'strong', I was used to lug not only my own suitcase up and down the stairs (Narrow sweeping, semi-spiral), but some friends as well. I refuse to drag my suitcase, so my muscles are well conditioned now *laugh*. So... Let me say this now, it smelled a little like piss. Our bathroom smelled fulll out like crotch, and was about as wide as 3 of me. A strip of our plugs didn't work, and we had no alarm clock... I ended up using the beating of the pidgeons' (on the ledge outside) wings to wake myself up when was expected! I'm rather adaptive though, so I told everyone to shut up and quit complaining about their living spaces, since it would help none. They complained on, hoping for something better in paris...
The Paris Hotel: The Hotel Cecil
..But all they would get is this. [hallway]
Now let me tell you what about this Hotel Cecil, ha ha. It was amazingly grungy, like some cheap crackhouse brothel that reeked of ass and crotch in the hotel halls. Complete with a towering spiral staircase and a one person elevator, this hotel had an anti alcohol policy (which we broke) and was nestled in a high crime ghetto. From an excerpt in my journal:
It reeks of vagina and semen, mixed with urine and fast corroding paint thinner. We've nicknamed the pillows 'weiner pillows' for their long shape, and our towels 'semen towels [don't get preggers]'
And let me share with your our lovely view. We had a window alright...a window that stared at a brick wall and scaffolding, an inside/outside storage corridor type deal. You could hear people in the room opposite to us talking, which were our friends Joey Jag and Matt. It really was a place with no secrets, heh. When I plopped down on my comfortable bed, I detected a few crusty spots on my blanket, and the blankets smelled like human grease and hair (You know the smell I'm talking about.. right?).
Once again, I adapted well and decided to have a little party the next night we were there. Stay tuned for Chapter two: Luzern, Firenze, Roma, and Guiseppe the Bus Driver.
Next part:
Lucerne Region, Switzerland: The Hotel Crystal
This, overall, was a lovely hotel. The only problem I had with it were the hooligans chanting across the street... I guess over a football game. There were also middle eastern people in the hallway fighting, which was really really...loud. But we had thick comforters and cool mountain breeze to carry us to sleep. Too bad we only stayed here one night...
Firenze, Italy: The Hotel Piccadilly
Why the hell is it called the Hotel Piccadilly? I have no idea. Why is it proudly displaying three stars on its sign? I don't know either, but it was a nice enough hotel. No (working) air conditioning in our room, but a lovely breeze blew through the barred window. Barred? Yes, but to keep you from hurling yourself out the window. It was situated in a small town near Firenze, so there wasn't much traffic and plenty of little places to visit. Not too shabby, but the bathroom needed a little work. Now, I know the Europeans don't have the luxuries that we enjoy all the time, but when one can take a shit, wash their hands, brush their teeth, and take a shower at the same time... you're just asking for a mess. The shower wasn't separate from the rest of the room, but instead a simple showerhead was attatched to the wall, with a drain in the middle of the bathroom floor. My only concern was that I'd short circuit something in the process of bathing!
Roma, Italy: The Touring Hotel
Also quite a name... fitting as we were tourists. It had low grade, elongated stairs, making luggage-lugging more of a challenge than the steeper variety. The rooms were one person rooms with extra beds and tables crammed in them..we could tell this by the fact that the other beds had different, more makeshift looks to them and were missing headboards. It was alright, though... rather comfortable if you slept above the covers. An actual shower was present, and we had...unexplainable metal shutters over the windows. Oh well... if you lifted them it felt alright. Good party hotel, in any case... no resort, but far from the worst my friends.
Cramped Living Spaces
Otherwise, we had some cramped living spaces. I spent most of my time on our tour bus sleeping. Wow. Perhaps our greatest sleeping experience was on the night train from paris to Zürich, which housed several six person cramped cabins with hardly enough room to crack your neck in the lower bunks. I was fortunately forced to a top bunk, making my fear of ladders blow over quite quickly, which gave me much more headroom to maneuver. It would've been better sans the luggage, but we took care of that... by taking the ladder away, meaning I had to shimmy down the bunks like some derranged gorilla to get down to the floor and take a whiz. One of my cabin mates got molested by crazy mexicans in the hallway, eeh... so I played temp guard until we locked the door. We even had a mate with claustrophobia. Here's a photo:
Next part:
The Many Themesongs of Europe 2004: Party Boy
You may or may not know what 'party boying' is, but for the rest of my tentative audience allow me to explain. On the show Jackass, they have a segment known as 'Party Boy' in which one dresses in a leopard-skin thong and dances to techno music in the middle of a public place. This dance is done by hopping in a forward motion and swaying your arms overhead. If done correctly, it can look very interesting, especially given the correct circumstances. Now, on the Europe 2004 trip, we didn't exactly have leopard skin thongs, but our clothing articles were enough to pull off a party boy in.
And now I must explain what some street vendors are like in Paris. They are generally aggressive enough as is [Hell, they got me to buy 5 souvenir lighters (Which were sadly confiscated by the TSA)], but some are far beyond the boundaries of aggressiveness. Those street vendors are the ones who sell hand-made bracelets by tying them onto your hands. The moment that fabric hits your wrist, you are bound to buy what they are selling, even though they forced you into it. We were not interested and walked by with our hands clung tightly to our belongings and pockets. They are notorious for pick-pocketing in some cases, and even tried to slip their hands into Spear's pocket.
But as we walked past them, they took things much too far, and molested one of our girls. This did not make us a very happy group of campy American tourists. Our friend Joey Jag. was last in line, and as they went to put the bracelet on his hand he said 'I will buy one if you tie it on that pigeon over there'. The vendors replied 'They are for girl, not for pigeon' but Joey insisted on purchasing a pigeon-tied bracelet. He then said 'wait then can I have one?' as the vendor gave a puzzled look. The vendor said 'Are you a girl?' and Jag says 'of course'. Then, they question his sexuality. Jag, in true Jag form replies 'Yessssth'. as he walks away, they call him a ******.
After we scale a monstrous amount of marble stairs we devise a plan. The plan is to pull a full-on party boy maneuver with a Jim Russel [Dance move named after a member of our group, the move is when you glide up to someone and spin away from them. Useful tactic.] So as we descend the stairs, with all cameras ready, the vultures of vendors poised to strike, we break out into a group party boy whilst beat-boxing a techno mix [uump-chi uump-chi]. This actually prompted French bystanders to break into Party Boy with us and cheer us on in broken English. It was the most amazing spectacle.. I participated as much as I could with my injured foot, but it was still fun.
As we went by, the vendors called us ******s.
Now this was not the only half-embarrassing thing we did. The beat-boxed techno mix was only one of our theme songs for the trip [uump chi!]. A theme song we also held to whilst sitting down is the theme to 'The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly' [A group effort]. Yet one of our other theme songs, also one of our most memorable, is one that many might recognize if they are fans of Quentin Tarantino's films. It was performed to a skipping gait, and most of the time whilst maneuvering down the stairs of a metropolitan or subway tunnel. Yes, it is that damn catchy whistling theme from Kill Bill vol. 1 [The one Elle Driver (California Mountain Snake) is whistling...the nurse chick.
Mmm...I need a life.
Heh, she makes me scared of europe... :O
Some of my friends from school recently went on a school organized trip to Europe...this is their story:
So, I've been back from Europe for a bit and had a few connection problems, but now I am officially back in action. I ended up not attending MillionManLan due to 6 hour time loss and Jetlag, getting 1 hour of sleep in over thirty hours. When I got home, I ended up falling asleep at about 4:30 PM accidentally, and waking up at 8 AM the next morning not knowing what day it was, having slept like the dead. So too bad... next year before college, I must attend!
I have no idea exactly where to start... so perhaps I'll start by entering a passage from my journal that I kept there. It's a song called the "Twelve Days of Europe", themed after a lot of our bad luck [nowhere near touching all of it]. It was written behind a jizz littered service station near Rome, Italy. We swept away at least 4 condoms from the sidewalk so we could sit down for a bit and play charrades and all that. You see, our bus had split a diesel line and we were smoking out our asses, we pulled over into the service station when we alerted Guiseppe our bus driver [awesome mofo!].
So here it is, frustration in a basket: The Twelve Days of Europe.
On the ___ day of Europe, my Tour Guide gave to me....
1. Blind French Midget with a cane.
2. Pubs with fish and chips
3. English Soccer Hooligans
4. Barf Bags for Jasmine
5. Leaps over Dog Shit
6. Ways to say 'how you doooin'
7. Watches for Elena
8. Hours in a metro
9. New hair appliances
10. ways to ignore american food
11...thousand stairs to climb
12. new adventures for our grandchildren.
And this all relates to us. Especially the English Soccer Hooligans... England lost to France while we were in london and one of our group members almost got the shit beaten out of him.
More stories some other time...I don't know where else to being.
Next Part:
Allow me to take this moment to describe the European hotels in meticulous detail.
Now that we have that in order, I'd like to start off with our hotel in London.
The London Hotel (Kingsway)
This hotel had a mighty six stories or so. I'd like to know how I end up with the top every time? In any case, that's where I was placed with my friend Anna. On the top floor, it is more blistering hot than the rest of the hotel... none of them had air conditioning. In any case, since I was 'strong', I was used to lug not only my own suitcase up and down the stairs (Narrow sweeping, semi-spiral), but some friends as well. I refuse to drag my suitcase, so my muscles are well conditioned now *laugh*. So... Let me say this now, it smelled a little like piss. Our bathroom smelled fulll out like crotch, and was about as wide as 3 of me. A strip of our plugs didn't work, and we had no alarm clock... I ended up using the beating of the pidgeons' (on the ledge outside) wings to wake myself up when was expected! I'm rather adaptive though, so I told everyone to shut up and quit complaining about their living spaces, since it would help none. They complained on, hoping for something better in paris...
The Paris Hotel: The Hotel Cecil
..But all they would get is this. [hallway]
Now let me tell you what about this Hotel Cecil, ha ha. It was amazingly grungy, like some cheap crackhouse brothel that reeked of ass and crotch in the hotel halls. Complete with a towering spiral staircase and a one person elevator, this hotel had an anti alcohol policy (which we broke) and was nestled in a high crime ghetto. From an excerpt in my journal:
It reeks of vagina and semen, mixed with urine and fast corroding paint thinner. We've nicknamed the pillows 'weiner pillows' for their long shape, and our towels 'semen towels [don't get preggers]'
And let me share with your our lovely view. We had a window alright...a window that stared at a brick wall and scaffolding, an inside/outside storage corridor type deal. You could hear people in the room opposite to us talking, which were our friends Joey Jag and Matt. It really was a place with no secrets, heh. When I plopped down on my comfortable bed, I detected a few crusty spots on my blanket, and the blankets smelled like human grease and hair (You know the smell I'm talking about.. right?).
Once again, I adapted well and decided to have a little party the next night we were there. Stay tuned for Chapter two: Luzern, Firenze, Roma, and Guiseppe the Bus Driver.
Next part:
Lucerne Region, Switzerland: The Hotel Crystal
This, overall, was a lovely hotel. The only problem I had with it were the hooligans chanting across the street... I guess over a football game. There were also middle eastern people in the hallway fighting, which was really really...loud. But we had thick comforters and cool mountain breeze to carry us to sleep. Too bad we only stayed here one night...
Firenze, Italy: The Hotel Piccadilly
Why the hell is it called the Hotel Piccadilly? I have no idea. Why is it proudly displaying three stars on its sign? I don't know either, but it was a nice enough hotel. No (working) air conditioning in our room, but a lovely breeze blew through the barred window. Barred? Yes, but to keep you from hurling yourself out the window. It was situated in a small town near Firenze, so there wasn't much traffic and plenty of little places to visit. Not too shabby, but the bathroom needed a little work. Now, I know the Europeans don't have the luxuries that we enjoy all the time, but when one can take a shit, wash their hands, brush their teeth, and take a shower at the same time... you're just asking for a mess. The shower wasn't separate from the rest of the room, but instead a simple showerhead was attatched to the wall, with a drain in the middle of the bathroom floor. My only concern was that I'd short circuit something in the process of bathing!
Roma, Italy: The Touring Hotel
Also quite a name... fitting as we were tourists. It had low grade, elongated stairs, making luggage-lugging more of a challenge than the steeper variety. The rooms were one person rooms with extra beds and tables crammed in them..we could tell this by the fact that the other beds had different, more makeshift looks to them and were missing headboards. It was alright, though... rather comfortable if you slept above the covers. An actual shower was present, and we had...unexplainable metal shutters over the windows. Oh well... if you lifted them it felt alright. Good party hotel, in any case... no resort, but far from the worst my friends.
Cramped Living Spaces
Otherwise, we had some cramped living spaces. I spent most of my time on our tour bus sleeping. Wow. Perhaps our greatest sleeping experience was on the night train from paris to Zürich, which housed several six person cramped cabins with hardly enough room to crack your neck in the lower bunks. I was fortunately forced to a top bunk, making my fear of ladders blow over quite quickly, which gave me much more headroom to maneuver. It would've been better sans the luggage, but we took care of that... by taking the ladder away, meaning I had to shimmy down the bunks like some derranged gorilla to get down to the floor and take a whiz. One of my cabin mates got molested by crazy mexicans in the hallway, eeh... so I played temp guard until we locked the door. We even had a mate with claustrophobia. Here's a photo:
Next part:
The Many Themesongs of Europe 2004: Party Boy
You may or may not know what 'party boying' is, but for the rest of my tentative audience allow me to explain. On the show Jackass, they have a segment known as 'Party Boy' in which one dresses in a leopard-skin thong and dances to techno music in the middle of a public place. This dance is done by hopping in a forward motion and swaying your arms overhead. If done correctly, it can look very interesting, especially given the correct circumstances. Now, on the Europe 2004 trip, we didn't exactly have leopard skin thongs, but our clothing articles were enough to pull off a party boy in.
And now I must explain what some street vendors are like in Paris. They are generally aggressive enough as is [Hell, they got me to buy 5 souvenir lighters (Which were sadly confiscated by the TSA)], but some are far beyond the boundaries of aggressiveness. Those street vendors are the ones who sell hand-made bracelets by tying them onto your hands. The moment that fabric hits your wrist, you are bound to buy what they are selling, even though they forced you into it. We were not interested and walked by with our hands clung tightly to our belongings and pockets. They are notorious for pick-pocketing in some cases, and even tried to slip their hands into Spear's pocket.
But as we walked past them, they took things much too far, and molested one of our girls. This did not make us a very happy group of campy American tourists. Our friend Joey Jag. was last in line, and as they went to put the bracelet on his hand he said 'I will buy one if you tie it on that pigeon over there'. The vendors replied 'They are for girl, not for pigeon' but Joey insisted on purchasing a pigeon-tied bracelet. He then said 'wait then can I have one?' as the vendor gave a puzzled look. The vendor said 'Are you a girl?' and Jag says 'of course'. Then, they question his sexuality. Jag, in true Jag form replies 'Yessssth'. as he walks away, they call him a ******.
After we scale a monstrous amount of marble stairs we devise a plan. The plan is to pull a full-on party boy maneuver with a Jim Russel [Dance move named after a member of our group, the move is when you glide up to someone and spin away from them. Useful tactic.] So as we descend the stairs, with all cameras ready, the vultures of vendors poised to strike, we break out into a group party boy whilst beat-boxing a techno mix [uump-chi uump-chi]. This actually prompted French bystanders to break into Party Boy with us and cheer us on in broken English. It was the most amazing spectacle.. I participated as much as I could with my injured foot, but it was still fun.
As we went by, the vendors called us ******s.
Now this was not the only half-embarrassing thing we did. The beat-boxed techno mix was only one of our theme songs for the trip [uump chi!]. A theme song we also held to whilst sitting down is the theme to 'The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly' [A group effort]. Yet one of our other theme songs, also one of our most memorable, is one that many might recognize if they are fans of Quentin Tarantino's films. It was performed to a skipping gait, and most of the time whilst maneuvering down the stairs of a metropolitan or subway tunnel. Yes, it is that damn catchy whistling theme from Kill Bill vol. 1 [The one Elle Driver (California Mountain Snake) is whistling...the nurse chick.
Mmm...I need a life.
Heh, she makes me scared of europe... :O
![[Matt]](https://valvetime-data.community.forum/avatars/m/0/25.jpg?1330940173){kind=avatar}
