That's right, Vegas. After a chilled day or two at the condo in San Diego, me and kieran decided to take Harry, and his mate Steve, to Vegas. We decided we'd leave at about 9...we ended up leaving at 11 or 12 or something. But thats Ok...cause it was Vegas....and a Mustang
Sidenote, Mustangs aren't as cool and spacious with four guys in there.
This was the first trip wher I had a go in the back, and I found it funny how when I was in the front of the Mustang I thought "hmm, where does all the wind go when the roof is down, because I can barely feel it. You wanna know? It goes to the back. My reasoning for being in the back was that Steve was somewhere about 6 ft 2, and Keiran, one of the shortest among us, was driving. So yeah, me an Harry, the littlest, sat in the back unable to hear anything being said due to the roaring of the air on our faces, though we did say hi to some lovely ladies in there cars, not wolf whistling, just hi. None of their boyfriends/fiances/husbands seemed pleased about this.
We did have a stop at a Coffee place, where we had a fun time on their leather couches riding their Wi-fi, well by that I mean Keiran checked up on google maps to make sure that we were, indeed, going to Las Vegas. Don't worry, we were cool. We wanted to be in a starbucks but when we asked where one was, he told us it was somewhere on the othert side of the shopping centre. When we got to the other side of the shopping centre, another guy told us we should go back to the other side to get a starbucks, we gave up chasing that goose fairly quickly.
Also, Keiran thought it would be nice to let Harry have a go at driving the Mustang around the parking lot. after he sped away, a tiny Vietnemese man came out of his restaurant claiming to be the manager and demanded we leave, or 'Reave'. As we did he started to call the 'Porice', which hinestly I was all up for, I would love to have had a car chase in that Mustang, I reckon Keiran could have held his own.
Disclaimer: Any racist comments made by Mr. Quilty in this article is purely a joke and hysterical, any person who finds them offensive should not judge his entire personality by these jokes for he is really a lovely person...also they should lighten up.
SO, a few hours, a lot of miles, and many moments of me standing up in the car with Keirans camera to take pictures of Las Vegas signs later, We were in VEGAS...and it was pretty. Me and Harry decided that we should test the leniancy of the local law enforcers by sitting on the back of the car, rather than in it. The only regret we picked up from getting to Las Vegas was that we got there to early, so we didnt drive through the lights. Never the less though we were so taken away by how awsome it all was we all had feelings that I could only describe as "Las-Vegasms!!"
Sidenote: The Coppers didn't care, they just didn't care
We checked into the Monte Carlo, thats right, at about 5 o'clock in the pm's. I should add it was quite a nice hotel. We got to the top, we Showered and we were ready...well they were ready, turns out they had shirts and ties and stuff...I brought Jeans and a t-shirt, what am I like, eh? also I had been surprisingly sunburnt on the face, sunburnt for the first time this year I might add wothout wearing any suncream. So that was a little bit embarrassing, but was all in good fun. another realisation that came to us was that only one of us was 21...so the other three became cheerleaders. By that I mean, we meant to be cheerleaders, until we lost Keiran somewhere in a casino half an hour into leaving our Hotel. NEVER THE LESS... we had a great time. The thing about being in Las Vegas for a night is that even if you can't drink, gamble, or go see extremely hot girls on stage... I mean pray for the sins of your bretheren, or if you haven't go the money to gamble, drink and...pray...You can still have an amazing time.
We checked out the Belajio (or however you're meant to spell it) and the dancing fountain in front of it. I couldn't help but wonder how long it took them to train the water to do that...what?
We saw Caesars Palace, and all the amazing Statues inside. Also they have an artificial sky there so it always seems like day there. That creeped me out. This made me realise the complete lack of window in the casino's meaning that peopl who are getting into the gambling spirit never realise that they are staying out too late, just like Ikea, those evil Swedish bastards.
ALSO, despite my limitations of age I did gamble...by that I mean I put a quarter in a slot machine, won a dollar, put another quarter in, lost, then took my winnings and ran. Thats right, I beat the bank by 50, freaking, cents.
Sidenote: it turns out that we weren't even allowed to watch the tables, and we totally would have gotten away with it if weren't for Harry and him looking like a young Harry Potter.
Overall Vegas was too awsome for words, and it was sad to have to leave...although We did leave in a Mustang which made it all better.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
American's should fix their bloody road names...
San diego was another long haul... and by the way for anyone who knows american geography, yes, it was a bit of a stupid route to go from LA up to San Fransisco and back down to San Diego (especially when we had to go around LA to get there), but we prevailed.
On the way to San Diego we realised that there was another friend from camp who was renting a Condo with some of his mates. What luck. So we asked, he said yes, we wrote down his address. Floorless plan right? you'd think so anyway...
once getting into San Diego at about midnight, we looked at the address, we looked at the map, we looked at the address again, we looked back at the map a little harder this time, we swore loudly. the Address wasnt on the map. I can't remember exactly what was written down but it was something along the lines of "21 east F Enchilada"...really we didnt think it through. what was even better was that no one else understood it either. It got so stessful I actually thought the ozzie was about to tear up the mustang, and that is not OK.
Sidenote: It didn't say Enchillada, but thats what Keiran kept on calling it, and I'm not sure if its a good thing to put down the real address
We found ourselves at 21st and F at one point, no it wasn't the right place. and while there I met a nice couple, Katy and Richard, who uckily work late at a bar and had only just got back home, and were more then helpful. They let me use their phone, my phone plugged into their outlet, and Keirans phone plugged into their outlet. None of them worked. While I was doing this, Keiran sat in the middle of the street with his mac trying to pick up a connection, and then trying to get in contact with Harry (Aka; Condo-Man). In the end we managed to get in contact and find the place, though we had to meet up with Harry at a 7/11 on his Push-Bike, while we drove behind in a mustang, his reaction to the mustang being "F@*$ off, where'd you steal that from" which is understandable...you know, keiran being austraillian and all. so yeah, we didn't get in until about 3 0'clock, but it was all cool. 1.because they had a hot tub, I didn't use it but you know...hot tub, 2. because Harry's mate was a che, and therefore made us some kickass brakfast, and then a fantastic Curry, and 3. because we had a fecking mustang.
Sidenote: Keiran never actually saw Katy and Richard, and same vise versa, so i think they all thought i was crazy and imagining people. good times.
On the way to San Diego we realised that there was another friend from camp who was renting a Condo with some of his mates. What luck. So we asked, he said yes, we wrote down his address. Floorless plan right? you'd think so anyway...
once getting into San Diego at about midnight, we looked at the address, we looked at the map, we looked at the address again, we looked back at the map a little harder this time, we swore loudly. the Address wasnt on the map. I can't remember exactly what was written down but it was something along the lines of "21 east F Enchilada"...really we didnt think it through. what was even better was that no one else understood it either. It got so stessful I actually thought the ozzie was about to tear up the mustang, and that is not OK.
Sidenote: It didn't say Enchillada, but thats what Keiran kept on calling it, and I'm not sure if its a good thing to put down the real address
We found ourselves at 21st and F at one point, no it wasn't the right place. and while there I met a nice couple, Katy and Richard, who uckily work late at a bar and had only just got back home, and were more then helpful. They let me use their phone, my phone plugged into their outlet, and Keirans phone plugged into their outlet. None of them worked. While I was doing this, Keiran sat in the middle of the street with his mac trying to pick up a connection, and then trying to get in contact with Harry (Aka; Condo-Man). In the end we managed to get in contact and find the place, though we had to meet up with Harry at a 7/11 on his Push-Bike, while we drove behind in a mustang, his reaction to the mustang being "F@*$ off, where'd you steal that from" which is understandable...you know, keiran being austraillian and all. so yeah, we didn't get in until about 3 0'clock, but it was all cool. 1.because they had a hot tub, I didn't use it but you know...hot tub, 2. because Harry's mate was a che, and therefore made us some kickass brakfast, and then a fantastic Curry, and 3. because we had a fecking mustang.
Sidenote: Keiran never actually saw Katy and Richard, and same vise versa, so i think they all thought i was crazy and imagining people. good times.
Americans have a bridge...and a very nice bridge at that...
It was a long haul to San Francisco, we left quite early (from aforementioned car park) stopping by a beach where Keiran said he could really wake up. He spent about half a minute in the water before running out due to how cold it was. But that’s okay, we still had the mustang.
We stopped by a town whose name escapes me, but I do remember clearly that it was home to the inventor of the split-pea soup.
While speeding down the road, in the mustang of course, we were playing our own burned CD’s consisting mainly of Aerosmith and Will Smith. It was frickin sweet.
When we finally arrived at San Fran, we knew exactly what our priority should be. Drive over the golden gate bridge. That was a pretty good thing to be able to say I’ve done…despite the fact that there was no toll leaving across the bridge, but a six dollar toll going back. Darn you, creators of the bridge, you had this planned from the start I have no doubt.
Sidenote: the hills in San Francisco are so steep that when driving up them, its like being on a roller coaster, except scarier when you’re at the top cause you’re meant to be able to see the traffic going in front of you, but you just can’t. Also walking down the hills Keiran decided firmly that “if we trip,or slip here, we will die…” reassuring…
We were then faced with the difficult task…of finding somewhere else to stay the night. It was more or less the same as the night before; we decided not to sleep in the car park of either ends of the golden gate bridge, as security was heavy. We then found ourselves driving through the bad looking neighbourhood, the sort of one you can’t help but think you’re always about 20 seconds away from a drug den.
It was decided we’d stay in the front drive of what seemed to be an abandoned mansion…yeah I know, horror movie stupid idea number one. Well that’s what was first decided anyway, up to the point where Keiran left the car to take a slash (horror movie stupid idea number two) where he then abruptly came charging back into the car slamming the door, saying “We’ve got to get out of here, I think this place is haunted”. Well I think that’s what he said though it had a lot more swearing and I’m fail sure he ‘crikey’ at least twice. Anyway I, luckily, did not commit horror movie stupid idea number three and say “meh, its probably nothing”, instead I said “oh dear God, GOGOGOGOGO!!!” and go we did.
(Side note: turns out it wasn’t a ghost. But instead, as Keiran revealed to me later, a hobo whom Keiran didn’t want to share a drive with.)
We stopped by a town whose name escapes me, but I do remember clearly that it was home to the inventor of the split-pea soup.
While speeding down the road, in the mustang of course, we were playing our own burned CD’s consisting mainly of Aerosmith and Will Smith. It was frickin sweet.
When we finally arrived at San Fran, we knew exactly what our priority should be. Drive over the golden gate bridge. That was a pretty good thing to be able to say I’ve done…despite the fact that there was no toll leaving across the bridge, but a six dollar toll going back. Darn you, creators of the bridge, you had this planned from the start I have no doubt.
Sidenote: the hills in San Francisco are so steep that when driving up them, its like being on a roller coaster, except scarier when you’re at the top cause you’re meant to be able to see the traffic going in front of you, but you just can’t. Also walking down the hills Keiran decided firmly that “if we trip,or slip here, we will die…” reassuring…
We were then faced with the difficult task…of finding somewhere else to stay the night. It was more or less the same as the night before; we decided not to sleep in the car park of either ends of the golden gate bridge, as security was heavy. We then found ourselves driving through the bad looking neighbourhood, the sort of one you can’t help but think you’re always about 20 seconds away from a drug den.
It was decided we’d stay in the front drive of what seemed to be an abandoned mansion…yeah I know, horror movie stupid idea number one. Well that’s what was first decided anyway, up to the point where Keiran left the car to take a slash (horror movie stupid idea number two) where he then abruptly came charging back into the car slamming the door, saying “We’ve got to get out of here, I think this place is haunted”. Well I think that’s what he said though it had a lot more swearing and I’m fail sure he ‘crikey’ at least twice. Anyway I, luckily, did not commit horror movie stupid idea number three and say “meh, its probably nothing”, instead I said “oh dear God, GOGOGOGOGO!!!” and go we did.
(Side note: turns out it wasn’t a ghost. But instead, as Keiran revealed to me later, a hobo whom Keiran didn’t want to share a drive with.)
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Americans have some niiiiice cars...
12th September 2009
OK, so I on my last day in Austin I checked up my schedule, made sure that I knew what time the bus was so I knew a good time to re-meet Keiran in LA. It said my bus left Austin at 4:50pm, and would arrive in LA at about 9:45 pm later that day. Simple enough, right?
Anyone who answered yes to that question should feel ashamed of themselves as I did. Turns out it takes longer than 5 hours to get from Austin to LA…about 24 hours longer. So just before my bus left I sent him a message saying I was getting there for later that day, turns out he would be waiting a whole other day. When I got there he was a little tiny bit pissed. Especially when it turned out my bag was on another bus that was 45 minutes late.
But fear not, for no man, English or Aussie, can stay pissed at the bus system long enough when they have in their possession a ford mustang (and a beauty of one at that). So, sooner then you could say “Crikey, mate, if you mess me about like that again I’ll skin you like a kangaroo what tried to steal my can keg of fosters…” we were zooming down route 101.
(Side note: He didn’t say that, but I can only assume he would have if it weren’t for the whole ‘zooming’ part)
We ended up spending that night getting ‘the ultimate grease burger’ at the Hard Rock café, where I strongly contemplated jumping of off the railings into the ZZ-top style Cadillac rotating above the bar. And then headed down to take a look at the Universal Studios, which we strongly contemplated breaking into and then charging out of in the morning. We didn’t do this though, as I wasn’t fond of the idea of being kicked out of America when my blogging skills had only just began to bloom. Not my idea of fun.
Unfortunately my American under-aged-ness stopped us from being able to enter the clubbing style event happening a couple of yards away, so we retreated to try and find somewhere to sleep. I fell asleep whilst travelling though so I don’t really remember it too well, other than us talking of weird stories about corrupt police that pulled over victims in LA, and then in turn ourselves believing a police car was tailing us. But other than that, no memory of getting out of thee car and sleeping.
Oh that’s right, I woke up in the parked car the next morning.
OK, so I on my last day in Austin I checked up my schedule, made sure that I knew what time the bus was so I knew a good time to re-meet Keiran in LA. It said my bus left Austin at 4:50pm, and would arrive in LA at about 9:45 pm later that day. Simple enough, right?
Anyone who answered yes to that question should feel ashamed of themselves as I did. Turns out it takes longer than 5 hours to get from Austin to LA…about 24 hours longer. So just before my bus left I sent him a message saying I was getting there for later that day, turns out he would be waiting a whole other day. When I got there he was a little tiny bit pissed. Especially when it turned out my bag was on another bus that was 45 minutes late.
But fear not, for no man, English or Aussie, can stay pissed at the bus system long enough when they have in their possession a ford mustang (and a beauty of one at that). So, sooner then you could say “Crikey, mate, if you mess me about like that again I’ll skin you like a kangaroo what tried to steal my can keg of fosters…” we were zooming down route 101.
(Side note: He didn’t say that, but I can only assume he would have if it weren’t for the whole ‘zooming’ part)
We ended up spending that night getting ‘the ultimate grease burger’ at the Hard Rock café, where I strongly contemplated jumping of off the railings into the ZZ-top style Cadillac rotating above the bar. And then headed down to take a look at the Universal Studios, which we strongly contemplated breaking into and then charging out of in the morning. We didn’t do this though, as I wasn’t fond of the idea of being kicked out of America when my blogging skills had only just began to bloom. Not my idea of fun.
Unfortunately my American under-aged-ness stopped us from being able to enter the clubbing style event happening a couple of yards away, so we retreated to try and find somewhere to sleep. I fell asleep whilst travelling though so I don’t really remember it too well, other than us talking of weird stories about corrupt police that pulled over victims in LA, and then in turn ourselves believing a police car was tailing us. But other than that, no memory of getting out of thee car and sleeping.
Oh that’s right, I woke up in the parked car the next morning.
Americans need to fix their bloody sidewalks...
September 9th 2009
When I arrived in Austin, I arrived alone. It was a bit of a sad though but I fought through. There was a bit of a wait before I could take the city bus down town, so I took a bit of a wander to the local mall. Who says there is no such thing as a free lunch, because I really tested the boundaries of my dignity as I walked into the food court expecting to buy a burger but instead being called over to a Chinese food stand, where they offered me a taste from every single one of their delicious meals. I tried some of them twice, you know, so I could make a fair decision on what I would purchase. Then they told me the price, but I was gone before they finished their sentence.
The great thing was they weren’t the only stand to do it, I was well and truly full up on free samples. Just a tip for someone in a mall.
The next day the guy whose couch I had made my temporary bed said I could take his bike out into the city, and I did so. There were some pretty sweet sites, although it was then that it struck me that being alone no one else could document my travels by video, so I need to remember to dust of my old taped together digital camera.
One of my favourite sites was a statue of a woman firing a cannon in her nighty, I was thinking about the thoughts of all those woman empowerment people I knew. Turns out she had a pretty badass story of trying to kill a guy called “Sam Houston” who was trying to steal Austin’s private records or something.
I also stopped of to have a burger at a pretty nice looking place, so I ordered at the bar, sat down, enjoyed the burger, and eventually (after convincing the waitress that we didn’t have squirrels, chipmunks or deer in England) left. Now as I left I thought about how that probably wasn’t nearly an interesting enough story to put in the blog/ that’s when I looked in my wallet to find that there had been no change to the amount of cash in my wallet hadn’t changed since before going into the place.
Barbeque Burger, Cooked Rare $8.50
Homemade Fries - $2.50
Shake - $3.50
Amount Paid by Rowan – Nothing whatsoever…oops
Oh yeah, I fell off of the bike, putting a big graze on my knee and a big tear in my jeans, I asked for help from a dude nearby (you know, a bandage or something) and he taped some kitchen role to my leg…that bit sucked!
When I arrived in Austin, I arrived alone. It was a bit of a sad though but I fought through. There was a bit of a wait before I could take the city bus down town, so I took a bit of a wander to the local mall. Who says there is no such thing as a free lunch, because I really tested the boundaries of my dignity as I walked into the food court expecting to buy a burger but instead being called over to a Chinese food stand, where they offered me a taste from every single one of their delicious meals. I tried some of them twice, you know, so I could make a fair decision on what I would purchase. Then they told me the price, but I was gone before they finished their sentence.
The great thing was they weren’t the only stand to do it, I was well and truly full up on free samples. Just a tip for someone in a mall.
The next day the guy whose couch I had made my temporary bed said I could take his bike out into the city, and I did so. There were some pretty sweet sites, although it was then that it struck me that being alone no one else could document my travels by video, so I need to remember to dust of my old taped together digital camera.
One of my favourite sites was a statue of a woman firing a cannon in her nighty, I was thinking about the thoughts of all those woman empowerment people I knew. Turns out she had a pretty badass story of trying to kill a guy called “Sam Houston” who was trying to steal Austin’s private records or something.
I also stopped of to have a burger at a pretty nice looking place, so I ordered at the bar, sat down, enjoyed the burger, and eventually (after convincing the waitress that we didn’t have squirrels, chipmunks or deer in England) left. Now as I left I thought about how that probably wasn’t nearly an interesting enough story to put in the blog/ that’s when I looked in my wallet to find that there had been no change to the amount of cash in my wallet hadn’t changed since before going into the place.
Barbeque Burger, Cooked Rare $8.50
Homemade Fries - $2.50
Shake - $3.50
Amount Paid by Rowan – Nothing whatsoever…oops
Oh yeah, I fell off of the bike, putting a big graze on my knee and a big tear in my jeans, I asked for help from a dude nearby (you know, a bandage or something) and he taped some kitchen role to my leg…that bit sucked!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
American's sure have a Night Life...
We turned up to New Orleans lucky to be alive, but despite our traumatic journey I had high hopes.
My mind went back to when I was 9 years old, I remembered the music, the food, the random awesome people we met, the first American football game I ever watched, the voodoo, the Mardi Gras floats…I was amazingly excited.
…
It was a bit of a $#%! Hole to be honest. Well at first anyway, I looked around and saw all of the back life of New Orleans. The buildings were worn down, some plants were dying, and there was metallic fencing, barbed wire, everywhere. I wondered whether this was the cause of Katrina all those years ago, or if it was always like it here and I just never saw this side when I was a kid. Either way we stumbled along with our bags, me dragging behind a little bit, feeling sorry for myself, alongside my shattered dreams of a never ending party.
Things picked up a bit though when we saw a sign of life, a restaurant. We were all a bit hungry so it was decided that this’d do for breakfast. Jambalaya. That cheered me up a bit. Great tasting, I don’t know if I ever had it as a kid, but I was having a taste from New Orleans, and it tasted great.
From there I felt happy about where I was, the dust didn’t bother me, the heat didn’t bother me, the crazy gangsters in their cars with 50 cent didn’t bother me...much. Although, I was bothered by the height restriction thing, created for restricting the car parks use to regular cars…being place in the middle of a great empty space, being forced to watch as trucks and big rigs simply travelled around it. First time in a while I pitied an inanimate object.
It took us a while to arrive at their hostel, the one that I wasn’t staying the night at, and after that we decided to go to Wal-Mart, for the first time in weeks (I was getting the shakes) and then headed down in the cities…general…direction.
That’s when things really got good, we went past the Mardi gras float world, and I managed to persuade the others to go in there. Pictures were taken, fun wa had…and then we got to the tickets office and decided not to go, but it was still fun whle it lasted.
(Side note: -
Jack: so this Mardi Gras things a parade, huh? How longs it been going on for?
Tickets Lady: a good 3 and a half hundred years now
Jack: …oh…)
Ahh the Mississippi river, that was good fun. The people from the good ship “Natchez” shouted us at, the Natchez being a stern-wheeler as you may learn from our educational video. I started to get edgy when I saw flashes coming from the ship and didn’t like the idea of being photograph against my will.
So I decided to go inside the river walk mall thing, where we saw cool shops, and a very cool fudge-making factory. I had now forgotten all ill feelings against new Orleans, for a good time was being had by all.
The following day was just as bright and exciting, I had to break off from the group the previous night so I could sleep on a couch, but the next morning I checked into their hostel and just happened to be in their room, where I found them sleeping… at 2 o’clock in the afternoon…
Went for another walk through the city and re-watched ‘Inglorious Basterds” which was still a fantastic film by the way, and headed down to a bar where they were playing a bit of jazz, was sweet. At this point I should say that they were offering free refills for large drinks at the theatre, so I got a large one and made sure I got my moneys worth by getting 4 refills, so it goes without saying that I was in and out of the restroom for the majority of that time.
(Side note: I had a conversation with a woman about how Shawn of the dead is one of the only British made zombie films, and it still is the best)
Later that night, we went down to more bars, including one which had an awesome open mike night thing on, where you could go up with an instrument and join in with the jamming. Made me wish I had brought my harmonica, darn it all.
Learnt a fun fact about bartenders in Louisiana, they get paid about $20 every 3 days, and depend entirely on tips. This made it amusing when she shouted at, and refused to serve, Grant as he did not tip the nice lady. When called upon this we pointed out to her that that was basically like paying a dog to play fetch. This wasn’t good. So poor old grant had to wait until the next bartender turned up, at which point he decided to get another drink, and hoping the previous bargirl was watching, paid a very generous tip.
The night continued, the music played, we rocked out on the bongos to the music, but we decided it was time to see more of the nightlife. As we ventured out we remembered a warning of the previous days’ taxi driver, that we had chosen a bad time of year to visit, at the time we had no idea at that point that he meant that our three day visit to new Orleans coincided with a three day gay festival thing. This made things awkward, simply due to the fact that it was difficult to get any girls attention when the girls probably wouldn’t be into men, and any girls that were into men wouldn’t pay attention to four men walking together through a street full of homosexuals.
(Side note: you don’t know awkward until you’ve had a drunken, deaf, mute, gay guy coming onto you)
Due to this we though maybe it was time to leave, but a random dude “Blue” came up to us and asked us to visit his restaurant, we thought about it but then he came up with a better idea, he decided to send us to a club. I explained I was under aged and wouldn’t get in, but he took a bit of the old mafia-like “I know people, I can get you in” attitude, which made us all too nervous to reject him. As he sent u though the front door of the club we realised that Blue had sent us to a strip joint.
That was…interesting…
Coming Soon to the Quilty Quest Blog...
The journey from Tampa to New Orleans was really something else, probably the scariest, most entertainng, and surreal string of events to happen to me during my time in america, due to this, I am going to spend a lot of time on it so I can really try and do Justice to the event...
Don't worry though, you SHALL read about it...although I may have put your hopes up, so you could be slightly disapointed...ah well
Don't worry though, you SHALL read about it...although I may have put your hopes up, so you could be slightly disapointed...ah well
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
American Hobo's arent all that bad
Okay, so Tampa, not the most amazing place in America…maybe it was just bad timing but the day was a little dull.
We went to the aquarium…where there was a 5ft fish, and we had lunch in Aids memorial park. Then it was decided we’d find somewhere that would show the football (soccer). Unfortunately… very, VERY, unfortunately, hooters did not show the soccer, so we went to the neighbouring bar named “Wet Willies”. We thought about renting segways, but it turned out that they were $50 for an hour…that’s not nearly as good as scooters in Miami.
Outside of these things, the only interesting thing to happen was a hobo telling us a joke…so I’ll tell the joke.
“Three ladies go out, leaving there boyfriends at home, you know a really girls night at the bar. While at the bar the first lady says “my boyfriend reminds me of the soda 7up, he can get 7up in one night” and all the girls laugh and high five. The second lady goes “yeah, well my boyfriend reminds me of the soda mountain dew, cause when he mounts he knows what to dew” and they all high five. The final woman thinks for a moment, and then says “well my boyfriend reminds me of the soda ‘Jack Daniels” and is interrupted, “Soda?! Girl Jack Daniels is a hard Liquor,” “Yeah,” says the last woman “and so is my boyfriend”
(Side note, as we high fived the dude for a joke well told his fingernail size scared me.)
We went to the aquarium…where there was a 5ft fish, and we had lunch in Aids memorial park. Then it was decided we’d find somewhere that would show the football (soccer). Unfortunately… very, VERY, unfortunately, hooters did not show the soccer, so we went to the neighbouring bar named “Wet Willies”. We thought about renting segways, but it turned out that they were $50 for an hour…that’s not nearly as good as scooters in Miami.
Outside of these things, the only interesting thing to happen was a hobo telling us a joke…so I’ll tell the joke.
“Three ladies go out, leaving there boyfriends at home, you know a really girls night at the bar. While at the bar the first lady says “my boyfriend reminds me of the soda 7up, he can get 7up in one night” and all the girls laugh and high five. The second lady goes “yeah, well my boyfriend reminds me of the soda mountain dew, cause when he mounts he knows what to dew” and they all high five. The final woman thinks for a moment, and then says “well my boyfriend reminds me of the soda ‘Jack Daniels” and is interrupted, “Soda?! Girl Jack Daniels is a hard Liquor,” “Yeah,” says the last woman “and so is my boyfriend”
(Side note, as we high fived the dude for a joke well told his fingernail size scared me.)
Americans shouldn't allow 50cc on the interstate
Grant Whitaker – 5:00am, McDonalds: “We have done some crazy s*** today, and I for one am quite impressed that we did not die”
Truer words have never been spoken. Miami, a time spent so well that I decided that I wouldn’t segregate it into to three entries for each day, this baby deserves its own article.
Ok, so the journey to Miami was less than I wanted, as I was placed next to a fat guy with severe gas issues. On top of that a single mother and her four daughters surrounded me. I hate these children. They shouted, they screamed, and one of the little demon spawn stole some of my skittles. They moved me several times from my seat, as it just so happened that wherever the hell I decided to stay was exactly where she should have been. You know, “cause everywhere else is just so difficult with my children, being a single mother and all.” Use a bloody condom then, or at least drown them at birth.
(Side note, Rowan Quilty does not condone the actions of baby drowning, just remember to teach them the rules that just because you want somebody’s things, this does not make it theirs, especially when it is a disgruntled Brits skittles or personal space.)
That’s about as interesting my 26 hour journey was from Kentucky…yeah 26.
Once I got outside the hostel, ‘Jazz on south beach’, I was thinking that I’d gotten the name wrong and was taken to some sort of club…nah, it was just one hell of a hostel. Turns out every night they organise everyone to go clubbing, and start off allowing everyone to drink in the main room. After checking in, I managed to find Jack, Grant (counsellors from camp), and Alex (Grants housemate, fondly nick named ‘Ballsack”) sitting on the couch with a bunch of Budweiser’s. we sat around watching the twenty-somethings get gradually more pissed, and one especially oddly behaved (which we later found out to be due to some acid) woman, who pelted us with pamphlets, and decided that the beer bottles and cans needed to fit in more with the room, and promptly started redecorating.
(sidenote – Grant tried to wow me with a story of how all of them went skinny dipping in the sea, after listening further though it turned out it was just him and Ballsack…that was awkward)
I was alos offered a superman tattoo fir 5 bucks, I was all so tempted, until he told me we’d have to find somewhere private to get it done…I’ve heard of cleverer ideas.
So we went to the beach, we hung out on the lifeguards tower, we hid from the beach-police-man, it was all good. But nothing could compare to the next day, Scooter day!
That’s right scooter day, $55 for a scooter, so we (me, grant, Ballsack and Kieran, who had arrived the previous evening also) decided to rent out two of them. We were told that we had payed for 24 hours with these scooters, and we weren’t about to waste any money. It started off pretty regularly, as far as going around miami on the back of the scooter for kicks could be. Just sped around, constantly raced each others scooters, then the thought occurred to us. “Why don’t we visit will smith…or at least steal a gnome”, so it was off to palm island. Unfortunately the only gnome we could find was about three foot tall, and we couldn’t get Will Smiths address from the security guard…though we were never really sure if he lived there. But what we did do is see a ridiculous amount of mansions that I have no doubt belonged to the mafia. You could tell cause they had fancy cars and big balconies that someone would be shot off in a dramatic scene.
The scariest moment of the day however was when we decided to go downtown, and somehow managed to find ourselves on the six lane interstate. The only way I found out about this, and equally the only way I found out that this should have killed us and our new 50cc friends, was when Grant rode up next to ours and screamed at us “HOLY $#%@, WE’VE GOT TO GET OFF OF THE INTERSTATE!!”…that was a pretty big clue we were in trouble. Not only due to the accidents that could have happened, but we seemed to be pissing off enough trucks and big rigs that a couple of…not-so-accidents, could have occurred.
Side note: Kieran allowed me to have a small go on the scooter, but after the first few seconds we decided it best I don’t ride with a passenger.
Hours later we arrived back at the hostel, unscathed in all ways except for the stinging sensation that the hail/rain had when you’re moving 51mph, that’s right we reached 51. We thought it would be good to get showered and ready for some clubbing, cause no person should be able say they went to Miami, and did not go clubbing.
(Side note: some of us, however, can say that we haven’t, however reluctant we may be.)
The reason that we did not go…Onega girls. Two of them to be exact. They were nice and all, but they would not stop talking to some people at the hostel, and persuaded Alex and I to wait, resulting in us being left behind completely with no idea what club to go to. Suffice to say we were pissed, we decided eventually to go to the beach with some other people from the hostel, on the way to which we met up with jack, who had his own little sob story of abandonment to tell, though his words were unexplainably rushed, slurred, and he was sweating a whole lot. Curious…
I got offered a $5 superman tattoo, which I was very tempted by up to the point where he told me we’d need to go somewhere private for him to do it…no thanks crazy tattoo rapist man…not today please…
Jack acted weirdly at the beach as well, going from person to person as if trying to get rid of something, although no one seemed to be interested…even more curious.
Best part of the beach though was when the beach-police showed up on there quad bikes. Now I had never known that beaches could be closed for the night, but don’t worry we weren’t in trouble…most of us.
For whatever reason when jack saw the police, he shoved both hands into his pockets. Silly, silly Jack. Because of this, all attention was brought off of the twenty or thirty beach dwellers, and set on him getting searched, something definitely made him a bit paranoid, and I guess I should thank whatever it was. Throughout the search I could see tears, of what I can only assume were of amusement, fill his eyes, as the policemen shoved his hand into one pocket, not finding anything, and then gradually lean his hand to the other pocket…only to stop at the last second and decide that Jack was clean. A sigh of relief went round the group…hmm…I wonder what would have happened if the other pocket was searched.
Well after all of that excitement Grant, Jack, Keiran and I decide that 1 o’clock was the perfect time to take the scooters out for a final ride. A 5-6 hour ride. This ride had Keiran and me on one scooter, but I wasn’t allowed to drive, and grant and a spaced-out Jack on the other. At about 4:55am we decided to stop by mcdonalds, but it turned out they didn’t open until 5 am…but as we were about to leave in a rage, they decided they’d open early for us. Who says McDonalds are evil?
What made experience even better though was the new Yorker we meant inside who wouldn’t stop giving Jack a hard time about how gay he was…and yes, the rest of us did join in making fun of him.
(Side note: on the way out we found a stereo…so we put on a car and left, bandits that we are.)
Truer words have never been spoken. Miami, a time spent so well that I decided that I wouldn’t segregate it into to three entries for each day, this baby deserves its own article.
Ok, so the journey to Miami was less than I wanted, as I was placed next to a fat guy with severe gas issues. On top of that a single mother and her four daughters surrounded me. I hate these children. They shouted, they screamed, and one of the little demon spawn stole some of my skittles. They moved me several times from my seat, as it just so happened that wherever the hell I decided to stay was exactly where she should have been. You know, “cause everywhere else is just so difficult with my children, being a single mother and all.” Use a bloody condom then, or at least drown them at birth.
(Side note, Rowan Quilty does not condone the actions of baby drowning, just remember to teach them the rules that just because you want somebody’s things, this does not make it theirs, especially when it is a disgruntled Brits skittles or personal space.)
That’s about as interesting my 26 hour journey was from Kentucky…yeah 26.
Once I got outside the hostel, ‘Jazz on south beach’, I was thinking that I’d gotten the name wrong and was taken to some sort of club…nah, it was just one hell of a hostel. Turns out every night they organise everyone to go clubbing, and start off allowing everyone to drink in the main room. After checking in, I managed to find Jack, Grant (counsellors from camp), and Alex (Grants housemate, fondly nick named ‘Ballsack”) sitting on the couch with a bunch of Budweiser’s. we sat around watching the twenty-somethings get gradually more pissed, and one especially oddly behaved (which we later found out to be due to some acid) woman, who pelted us with pamphlets, and decided that the beer bottles and cans needed to fit in more with the room, and promptly started redecorating.
(sidenote – Grant tried to wow me with a story of how all of them went skinny dipping in the sea, after listening further though it turned out it was just him and Ballsack…that was awkward)
I was alos offered a superman tattoo fir 5 bucks, I was all so tempted, until he told me we’d have to find somewhere private to get it done…I’ve heard of cleverer ideas.
So we went to the beach, we hung out on the lifeguards tower, we hid from the beach-police-man, it was all good. But nothing could compare to the next day, Scooter day!
That’s right scooter day, $55 for a scooter, so we (me, grant, Ballsack and Kieran, who had arrived the previous evening also) decided to rent out two of them. We were told that we had payed for 24 hours with these scooters, and we weren’t about to waste any money. It started off pretty regularly, as far as going around miami on the back of the scooter for kicks could be. Just sped around, constantly raced each others scooters, then the thought occurred to us. “Why don’t we visit will smith…or at least steal a gnome”, so it was off to palm island. Unfortunately the only gnome we could find was about three foot tall, and we couldn’t get Will Smiths address from the security guard…though we were never really sure if he lived there. But what we did do is see a ridiculous amount of mansions that I have no doubt belonged to the mafia. You could tell cause they had fancy cars and big balconies that someone would be shot off in a dramatic scene.
The scariest moment of the day however was when we decided to go downtown, and somehow managed to find ourselves on the six lane interstate. The only way I found out about this, and equally the only way I found out that this should have killed us and our new 50cc friends, was when Grant rode up next to ours and screamed at us “HOLY $#%@, WE’VE GOT TO GET OFF OF THE INTERSTATE!!”…that was a pretty big clue we were in trouble. Not only due to the accidents that could have happened, but we seemed to be pissing off enough trucks and big rigs that a couple of…not-so-accidents, could have occurred.
Side note: Kieran allowed me to have a small go on the scooter, but after the first few seconds we decided it best I don’t ride with a passenger.
Hours later we arrived back at the hostel, unscathed in all ways except for the stinging sensation that the hail/rain had when you’re moving 51mph, that’s right we reached 51. We thought it would be good to get showered and ready for some clubbing, cause no person should be able say they went to Miami, and did not go clubbing.
(Side note: some of us, however, can say that we haven’t, however reluctant we may be.)
The reason that we did not go…Onega girls. Two of them to be exact. They were nice and all, but they would not stop talking to some people at the hostel, and persuaded Alex and I to wait, resulting in us being left behind completely with no idea what club to go to. Suffice to say we were pissed, we decided eventually to go to the beach with some other people from the hostel, on the way to which we met up with jack, who had his own little sob story of abandonment to tell, though his words were unexplainably rushed, slurred, and he was sweating a whole lot. Curious…
I got offered a $5 superman tattoo, which I was very tempted by up to the point where he told me we’d need to go somewhere private for him to do it…no thanks crazy tattoo rapist man…not today please…
Jack acted weirdly at the beach as well, going from person to person as if trying to get rid of something, although no one seemed to be interested…even more curious.
Best part of the beach though was when the beach-police showed up on there quad bikes. Now I had never known that beaches could be closed for the night, but don’t worry we weren’t in trouble…most of us.
For whatever reason when jack saw the police, he shoved both hands into his pockets. Silly, silly Jack. Because of this, all attention was brought off of the twenty or thirty beach dwellers, and set on him getting searched, something definitely made him a bit paranoid, and I guess I should thank whatever it was. Throughout the search I could see tears, of what I can only assume were of amusement, fill his eyes, as the policemen shoved his hand into one pocket, not finding anything, and then gradually lean his hand to the other pocket…only to stop at the last second and decide that Jack was clean. A sigh of relief went round the group…hmm…I wonder what would have happened if the other pocket was searched.
Well after all of that excitement Grant, Jack, Keiran and I decide that 1 o’clock was the perfect time to take the scooters out for a final ride. A 5-6 hour ride. This ride had Keiran and me on one scooter, but I wasn’t allowed to drive, and grant and a spaced-out Jack on the other. At about 4:55am we decided to stop by mcdonalds, but it turned out they didn’t open until 5 am…but as we were about to leave in a rage, they decided they’d open early for us. Who says McDonalds are evil?
What made experience even better though was the new Yorker we meant inside who wouldn’t stop giving Jack a hard time about how gay he was…and yes, the rest of us did join in making fun of him.
(Side note: on the way out we found a stereo…so we put on a car and left, bandits that we are.)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Americans have some big ass caves, and some just have big asses
August 31st 2009
Went to Mammoth Cave today, and had a well good time. Well as good a time as one can get in a giant hole in the ground.
I think the best part of the tour is when, just before going into the cave, the disgruntled tour guide, Gabe, let us know the golden rule:
“Do not touch the rocks! Just don’t! if you wanna touch a rock, there are some rocks on either side of ya now which you can touch. These rocks are no different to the rocks inside so why you would wanna touch them I have no idea. It’s rocks. It’s just rocks…let’s go in.”
I reckon some speeches they should probably make before having you pay for the ticket. This speech, alongside the whole;
“If you fear heights, small spaces, or the dark you may not wanna come on this tour, also we will go through a passage way named ‘fat man’s misery’, so yeah…no fatty’s. If you get to the point where you think ‘yeah…I can’t do that’ then we’ll say ‘yeah…y’are’”
By the way, tickets were non-refundable. These eerie warnings were not nearly as scary as Kevin, the very old, very angry Guide who, throughout the speech, went from person to person under his voice threatening them to put away their bags and bottles. He then disappeared into the shadows throughout the tour, unless of course someone took too many photos with the flash on. Like a wrinkly ninja!
(And by the way, no shit, “fat man’s misery” did exist, it was a passageway shaped like a keyhole, any large waists were rejected. It made seeing fat people going into the tour as we left even more amusing then just seeing the run-of-the-mill obese American.)
Went to Mammoth Cave today, and had a well good time. Well as good a time as one can get in a giant hole in the ground.
I think the best part of the tour is when, just before going into the cave, the disgruntled tour guide, Gabe, let us know the golden rule:
“Do not touch the rocks! Just don’t! if you wanna touch a rock, there are some rocks on either side of ya now which you can touch. These rocks are no different to the rocks inside so why you would wanna touch them I have no idea. It’s rocks. It’s just rocks…let’s go in.”
I reckon some speeches they should probably make before having you pay for the ticket. This speech, alongside the whole;
“If you fear heights, small spaces, or the dark you may not wanna come on this tour, also we will go through a passage way named ‘fat man’s misery’, so yeah…no fatty’s. If you get to the point where you think ‘yeah…I can’t do that’ then we’ll say ‘yeah…y’are’”
By the way, tickets were non-refundable. These eerie warnings were not nearly as scary as Kevin, the very old, very angry Guide who, throughout the speech, went from person to person under his voice threatening them to put away their bags and bottles. He then disappeared into the shadows throughout the tour, unless of course someone took too many photos with the flash on. Like a wrinkly ninja!
(And by the way, no shit, “fat man’s misery” did exist, it was a passageway shaped like a keyhole, any large waists were rejected. It made seeing fat people going into the tour as we left even more amusing then just seeing the run-of-the-mill obese American.)
Saturday, August 29, 2009
American's won a gold medal in boxing, 1960...
August 28th 2009
Did a bit of exploring in Louisville today. I wouldn't have believed that it was such a cool place if I hadn’t seen it myself.
Started off the day going to the science centre, and as result of this returned to the mental state of a 10 year old. I must have spent an hour trying to win a virtual volleyball game. That alongside a drunken driver simulator, which lets you drive sober then "drunk" by blurring the screen, having the lines on the road and all-in-all trying to fix it to make you go off road. The weird thing? I did better drunk then sober. The whole hands-on deal for science works, it just does.
Then I headed down to the Muhammad Ali Museum. That was awesome! On top of all the information about his life, his career, and his charity work, you could just sit down and watch his matches. I also hurt my knuckle pretty badly while mucking up using a speed bag, I hit it on the board the bag hung from.
Also, I can now say I have peed in the official 2nd most interesting restroom in the USA. The urinal being simply being a glass wall that goes through to an art museum on the other side, with a blurred bar going along where the manhood goes. A thought that went through my mind was that if a man was ridiculously tall, short, or had an obscenely large schlong, the world would see it.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
American's have nice apartments...
August 27th 2009
First day I’ve been able to just lounge about all day, Internet things, watching Judge Judy, watching Jerry Springer, simply listening to music. S’all good.
Somehow I managed to get a place on the couch of a ferret guy. I forget how I know him, something like he’s my mum’s, friend’s, friend. The weird thing was I was told to get in touch with him but I wasn’t told where he was, and they had no idea where I was, so I did get in touch and it just so happened he has an apartment in Louisville…odd that. But also very VERY handy. The really odd thing? I am now sharing a room with four ferrets, each one more interested in exploring, and destroying, my luggage.
Obviously I've done something good for karma to give this to me…or I am now expected to do something good for karma. Well guess what karma, I’m not playing by your rules.
First day I’ve been able to just lounge about all day, Internet things, watching Judge Judy, watching Jerry Springer, simply listening to music. S’all good.
Somehow I managed to get a place on the couch of a ferret guy. I forget how I know him, something like he’s my mum’s, friend’s, friend. The weird thing was I was told to get in touch with him but I wasn’t told where he was, and they had no idea where I was, so I did get in touch and it just so happened he has an apartment in Louisville…odd that. But also very VERY handy. The really odd thing? I am now sharing a room with four ferrets, each one more interested in exploring, and destroying, my luggage.
Obviously I've done something good for karma to give this to me…or I am now expected to do something good for karma. Well guess what karma, I’m not playing by your rules.
American's ride the bus...
August 26th 2009
The Journey was long and arduous… about half way through my ipod ran out of battery, and my pattern of on and off reading didn’t bode well. The stoner’s fantastic stories of amazing adventures had toned down to subtle mumblings of how misuse of the force would send them to force hell. Yes it was entertaining but it lacked the charm that came with them screaming out every other syllable. Latoia had decided to rest, or, as she put it “go for a nappy-nap so ma baby will shut her yappy-yap!” everyone else had decided to sleep, but they didn’t announce it in nearly an amusing enough way to worth mentioning them individually.
It was getting to the point where the whole ‘not-being-able-to-sleep’ thing, was becoming a slight annoyance. It got to the point where, when the old lady two rows forward offered me a sleeping pill; I didn’t even care to check the label. I dunno what it was she gave me but I was out of it for the rest of the journey, I had to switch buses twice, and I can only tell you one of the cities I was swapped at. My aforementioned ’out of it’-ness pleased Latoia to no end. I found a scribble on my belly when I changed my shirt the next day saying, and I’m not joking, “this beer gut be MINE bitch!” luckily it wasn’t a sharpie, simply a biro that the water from the greyhound station sinks could take care of easily.
I now found myself staring at Muhammad Ali Blvd, with no idea where to go. Still drowsy from what I now consider could have been roofie's, I decided to head to the most well lit place, difficult to find in mid-day. Luckily I realised I must be getting near the centre of town due to the flags of colonel sanders.
Side note: I have only just now realised that I am yet to mention my current whereabouts, Louisville Kentucky.
The Journey was long and arduous… about half way through my ipod ran out of battery, and my pattern of on and off reading didn’t bode well. The stoner’s fantastic stories of amazing adventures had toned down to subtle mumblings of how misuse of the force would send them to force hell. Yes it was entertaining but it lacked the charm that came with them screaming out every other syllable. Latoia had decided to rest, or, as she put it “go for a nappy-nap so ma baby will shut her yappy-yap!” everyone else had decided to sleep, but they didn’t announce it in nearly an amusing enough way to worth mentioning them individually.
It was getting to the point where the whole ‘not-being-able-to-sleep’ thing, was becoming a slight annoyance. It got to the point where, when the old lady two rows forward offered me a sleeping pill; I didn’t even care to check the label. I dunno what it was she gave me but I was out of it for the rest of the journey, I had to switch buses twice, and I can only tell you one of the cities I was swapped at. My aforementioned ’out of it’-ness pleased Latoia to no end. I found a scribble on my belly when I changed my shirt the next day saying, and I’m not joking, “this beer gut be MINE bitch!” luckily it wasn’t a sharpie, simply a biro that the water from the greyhound station sinks could take care of easily.
I now found myself staring at Muhammad Ali Blvd, with no idea where to go. Still drowsy from what I now consider could have been roofie's, I decided to head to the most well lit place, difficult to find in mid-day. Luckily I realised I must be getting near the centre of town due to the flags of colonel sanders.
Side note: I have only just now realised that I am yet to mention my current whereabouts, Louisville Kentucky.
American's have personalities, and then some...
August 25th 2009
The most amazing bus ride ever, it made me want to write a script for a show where the bus got stranded somehow, the people were so awesome.
The cast
Me- the Protagonist of our story, a young British traveller who unwittingly took this bus, not expecting to be joined by a bunch of crazy people
Latoia- The insane (not literally), 21 year old, pregnant, lesbian who refused to believe it was a man who gave her the baby.
The Big Bearded Stoners (each with there own fascinating story)
Hagrid (Charlie)- The leader of the stoners, Great grandson of Blackbeard, spent three years as a pirate, has 30 million dollar inheritance waiting for him in California once he returns his great granddads treasure, brought down the entire economy of Haiti by sleeping with the princess.
Silent Bob (Bob)- The Wiseman of the stoners, Had his tongue cut out twice by the same guy, reattached by the same doctor. Once smoked a doobie alongside the famous silent bob. Likes halo books. Apparently the first pregnant man.
Ryu – On the run from the Japanese mafia, has a kid waiting at home for him, shortest beard among the group, does NOT like the term “RE-re” as an insult.
Santa’s Second (Mark)- the actual quiet one, he didn’t actually have a story, or at least didn’t tell one. I’m fairly sure he was stoned the entire 16 hours I spent with them.
Joe- the Truck Driver who I’m fairly sure had Alzheimer’s, fairly funny guy despite the fact he’d tell the joke three times before the punch line.
T.J- A dude who kind of followed me while listening to his incredibly loud gangsta music
Kyle- Another dude that kind of followed me…though he never made a single piece of noise
Ron- a middle aged New Zealander, nice enough guy but was definitely gonna be the first to die.
The journey started out with Latoia turning to me and shouting “Yo! Don’tchu be starin' at my breasts” despite my constant denials she refused to listen to me, by the fourth or fifth accusation I had a glimpse, it couldn’t be helped. It was then she said that she knew she was right, luckily I was saved by Ryu and Hagrid “yo, I haven’t been able to keep my eyes of your breasts” “yeah, and he’ll stop staring at your breasts when you stop staring at his eyes”.
Needless to say the attention was then brought to my amazingly blue eyes.
The most amazing bus ride ever, it made me want to write a script for a show where the bus got stranded somehow, the people were so awesome.
The cast
Me- the Protagonist of our story, a young British traveller who unwittingly took this bus, not expecting to be joined by a bunch of crazy people
Latoia- The insane (not literally), 21 year old, pregnant, lesbian who refused to believe it was a man who gave her the baby.
The Big Bearded Stoners (each with there own fascinating story)
Hagrid (Charlie)- The leader of the stoners, Great grandson of Blackbeard, spent three years as a pirate, has 30 million dollar inheritance waiting for him in California once he returns his great granddads treasure, brought down the entire economy of Haiti by sleeping with the princess.
Silent Bob (Bob)- The Wiseman of the stoners, Had his tongue cut out twice by the same guy, reattached by the same doctor. Once smoked a doobie alongside the famous silent bob. Likes halo books. Apparently the first pregnant man.
Ryu – On the run from the Japanese mafia, has a kid waiting at home for him, shortest beard among the group, does NOT like the term “RE-re” as an insult.
Santa’s Second (Mark)- the actual quiet one, he didn’t actually have a story, or at least didn’t tell one. I’m fairly sure he was stoned the entire 16 hours I spent with them.
Joe- the Truck Driver who I’m fairly sure had Alzheimer’s, fairly funny guy despite the fact he’d tell the joke three times before the punch line.
T.J- A dude who kind of followed me while listening to his incredibly loud gangsta music
Kyle- Another dude that kind of followed me…though he never made a single piece of noise
Ron- a middle aged New Zealander, nice enough guy but was definitely gonna be the first to die.
The journey started out with Latoia turning to me and shouting “Yo! Don’tchu be starin' at my breasts” despite my constant denials she refused to listen to me, by the fourth or fifth accusation I had a glimpse, it couldn’t be helped. It was then she said that she knew she was right, luckily I was saved by Ryu and Hagrid “yo, I haven’t been able to keep my eyes of your breasts” “yeah, and he’ll stop staring at your breasts when you stop staring at his eyes”.
Needless to say the attention was then brought to my amazingly blue eyes.
Americans offer Medicine at cheap, cheap prices
August 24th 2009
I woke up this morning feeling more ill then I could have possibly imagined the night before. As a non-drinker this was probably the closest thing to the “God-of-all-hangovers” I was ever going to experience. If it weren’t for the fact that I was sleeping on someone else’s couch, I would most definitely have stayed there and felt sorry for myself. But alas, no one else was feeling sorry for me. The first thing I did was look in the mirror shining a small torch down my open gob so I could stare at all the flem and gunk that had appeared to start collecting there. I then spent the next half hour trying to rid my mouth of it.
As I was swept out of the apartment I knew the day was gonna be difficult, and my newfound pessimism was not let down. Most of the morning I spent floating around doing my best to follow Keiran (the Aussie) and Jamie. Eventually it got down to the point where Keiran turned to me, noticed my cold sweat and wide open pupils and stated “you look like S*@%” and had Jamie take me to a pharmacy so I could by something to bring me back to the world of the living. Whatever it was I took it seemed to work-ish. I kind of remember looking down upon ground zero, sitting on “Wonder Wheel” at Coney island, and rocking “la Grange” on a guitar hero arcade game. Most of this though has been blurred together by my memory. It starts to become clearer on the ferry we took to Staten Island, so that we could get a good view of lady liberty. I remember us getting on the ferry without paying and feeling like complete bandits for breaking the law. It took us a half hour after getting off the other side to realise that the ferry was probably free.
Then of course there is the beloved subway system that I took to retrieve my Greyhound discovery pass. What should have been a ten-minute trip was horrifically morphed into an hour-long adventure from station to station, getting different coordinates of my destination from different help desks. It was a homeless guy that sent me in the right direction in the end. By the time I had my stuff sorted out and returned to the apartment to pick up my bags, that Jamie had decided I might as well stay another night. I wasn’t about to disappoint.
By the way I felt much better by the end of the day, turns out that what I feared to be a severe case of swine flu, was simply a severe case of man flu.
I woke up this morning feeling more ill then I could have possibly imagined the night before. As a non-drinker this was probably the closest thing to the “God-of-all-hangovers” I was ever going to experience. If it weren’t for the fact that I was sleeping on someone else’s couch, I would most definitely have stayed there and felt sorry for myself. But alas, no one else was feeling sorry for me. The first thing I did was look in the mirror shining a small torch down my open gob so I could stare at all the flem and gunk that had appeared to start collecting there. I then spent the next half hour trying to rid my mouth of it.
As I was swept out of the apartment I knew the day was gonna be difficult, and my newfound pessimism was not let down. Most of the morning I spent floating around doing my best to follow Keiran (the Aussie) and Jamie. Eventually it got down to the point where Keiran turned to me, noticed my cold sweat and wide open pupils and stated “you look like S*@%” and had Jamie take me to a pharmacy so I could by something to bring me back to the world of the living. Whatever it was I took it seemed to work-ish. I kind of remember looking down upon ground zero, sitting on “Wonder Wheel” at Coney island, and rocking “la Grange” on a guitar hero arcade game. Most of this though has been blurred together by my memory. It starts to become clearer on the ferry we took to Staten Island, so that we could get a good view of lady liberty. I remember us getting on the ferry without paying and feeling like complete bandits for breaking the law. It took us a half hour after getting off the other side to realise that the ferry was probably free.
Then of course there is the beloved subway system that I took to retrieve my Greyhound discovery pass. What should have been a ten-minute trip was horrifically morphed into an hour-long adventure from station to station, getting different coordinates of my destination from different help desks. It was a homeless guy that sent me in the right direction in the end. By the time I had my stuff sorted out and returned to the apartment to pick up my bags, that Jamie had decided I might as well stay another night. I wasn’t about to disappoint.
By the way I felt much better by the end of the day, turns out that what I feared to be a severe case of swine flu, was simply a severe case of man flu.
Americans tip...
August 22nd
I guess the best way to start it is to say that it didn’t start too well. When we got into New York, (via the ominously named ‘Port Authority’) I took a taxi alongside some of the guys to an apartment which it turns out I was never gonna stay at. I tell you, there isn’t much of a better feeling than sitting in the lobby of a fancy apartment building, in a sweaty superman t-shirt, with 3 grumpy doormen, watching a bunch of rich people walking past on their way to their rooms, while you’re fully aware you have five friends upstairs getting showered, cleaned, and pampered by hot naked slave women.
…Ok that last bit probably didn’t happen up there, but I think you get what I’m trying to say.
Obviously I hold no grudges against those guys…just the doormen who obviously hated me and my uninvited ways.
The world was made good again though as over a dinner at Applebee’s I was given permission to stay at Jamie’s (counsellor from camp) Aunt and Uncle’s apartment.
Applebee’s, yeah that’s probably worth a mention. The original plan was to go to the famed ‘Chuck and Busters’, a restaurant/awesome arcade, but we weren’t allowed in due to the fact that all customers under 21 must be accompanied by a 25 year old. I would have had no problem with this if it weren’t for the fact I had gone and out so many times with a group of over 21’s/under 25’s with no hassle from the bouncers. It was only when the Scotsman of our group turned up that we were refused entry. I guess massive bouncers and the Scots will never truly tolerate each other’s presence in this world.
Anyway, we decided to go to Applebee’s for food, as it was cheaper any way. Though Stuart, the local anal retentive of our group was horrified to find out that the ‘2 for $20” had been busted up to ‘2 for $27’.
Overall it was definitely a good meal, despite the groups constant swearing that obviously been held in through 2 months of looking after campers (though the 2 year old the next table over didn’t seem to phase them), and our general loud noises. The best part of the meal had to be when we spent a half hour trying to figure out who owed money, everyone having to give in an extra dollar or five just so we could pay the bill (including gratuity charge). This half-hour of torturous math and having to remind everyone I had paid more than my share was made even sweeter when Stuart came to the table after handing the bill in and saying “we have to leave now.”
Turns out Stuart, and make of this what you will, had decided on his way to paying that he’d take out $20 from the gratuity, and then (and here’s the kicker) tell the waiter that his service was not up to standard. This would explain that on the way out when I said “thanks” he looked like he was about to shank me.
Honestly I don’t mind him not tipping so much as the waiter was slightly cold to us, it was the wasted precious minutes of my life that went into giving him that dollar that annoyed.
I guess the best way to start it is to say that it didn’t start too well. When we got into New York, (via the ominously named ‘Port Authority’) I took a taxi alongside some of the guys to an apartment which it turns out I was never gonna stay at. I tell you, there isn’t much of a better feeling than sitting in the lobby of a fancy apartment building, in a sweaty superman t-shirt, with 3 grumpy doormen, watching a bunch of rich people walking past on their way to their rooms, while you’re fully aware you have five friends upstairs getting showered, cleaned, and pampered by hot naked slave women.
…Ok that last bit probably didn’t happen up there, but I think you get what I’m trying to say.
Obviously I hold no grudges against those guys…just the doormen who obviously hated me and my uninvited ways.
The world was made good again though as over a dinner at Applebee’s I was given permission to stay at Jamie’s (counsellor from camp) Aunt and Uncle’s apartment.
Applebee’s, yeah that’s probably worth a mention. The original plan was to go to the famed ‘Chuck and Busters’, a restaurant/awesome arcade, but we weren’t allowed in due to the fact that all customers under 21 must be accompanied by a 25 year old. I would have had no problem with this if it weren’t for the fact I had gone and out so many times with a group of over 21’s/under 25’s with no hassle from the bouncers. It was only when the Scotsman of our group turned up that we were refused entry. I guess massive bouncers and the Scots will never truly tolerate each other’s presence in this world.
Anyway, we decided to go to Applebee’s for food, as it was cheaper any way. Though Stuart, the local anal retentive of our group was horrified to find out that the ‘2 for $20” had been busted up to ‘2 for $27’.
Overall it was definitely a good meal, despite the groups constant swearing that obviously been held in through 2 months of looking after campers (though the 2 year old the next table over didn’t seem to phase them), and our general loud noises. The best part of the meal had to be when we spent a half hour trying to figure out who owed money, everyone having to give in an extra dollar or five just so we could pay the bill (including gratuity charge). This half-hour of torturous math and having to remind everyone I had paid more than my share was made even sweeter when Stuart came to the table after handing the bill in and saying “we have to leave now.”
Turns out Stuart, and make of this what you will, had decided on his way to paying that he’d take out $20 from the gratuity, and then (and here’s the kicker) tell the waiter that his service was not up to standard. This would explain that on the way out when I said “thanks” he looked like he was about to shank me.
Honestly I don’t mind him not tipping so much as the waiter was slightly cold to us, it was the wasted precious minutes of my life that went into giving him that dollar that annoyed.
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