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.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
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.)
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