Eurotrip, Part 1: The Plane and Jolly Old London Town
Guys, I'm ridiculously swamped this week, and I'm fighting a bit of a cold, so that's why you haven't heard from me in so long. We've got so much to cover too! Episode III, Europe, NBA playoffs, women (yes, I need to write about you), and more! Ahhh! We'll start with Europe.
I think I'm going to do this as somewhat of a running diary. Times will be estimated. If this isn't working, I'll write the rest in a different style.
5:00am Monday, May 23rd. Irving, Texas. Sam and I are going to bed. We're getting up at 8:00am to go get breakfast, get my hair cut, and be ready for the guy to pick us up at 10:00am. For those of you who don't know us, I'm 6'7", and Sam is 6'6". We're scared to death of our 8 hour plane ride, so the plan is to stay up all night, and be so exhausted that we just pass out on the plane. We've been up packing and doing laundry all night. Since I'm a procrastinator and a night owl anyway, this has been fun for me, and I think Sam's the same way.
10:00am. We've had a nice big breakfast at Grandys (we had no idea when we were going to get to eat, so All You Can Eat Breakfast Buffet, here we come!). A shout out to Super Shuttle here: the guy was supposed to pick us up at 10:00am, and he called at 10:00:05am. I mean, we couldn't believe it.
Noon. We're at the airport, and I just realized I left my Mavericks and OSU basketball shorts at home. The only shorts I have with me are one pair of Khaki shorts. Shit. Way to start strong. And there goes impressing all the German women with my Mavs shorts.
1:00pm. Flight leaves on time, I immediately fall asleep and sleep damn near the whole time to Raleigh, North Carolina.
3:00pm. Raleigh, North Carolina. Raleigh International Airport isn't as big as Love Field. It's not even close. There's one ACC shop here, looks like 3, maybe 4 restaurants/bars, AND THAT'S IT. I don't think I've ever been in an airport this small. How the fuck is this an International Airport? Are we going to die? Can a plane leaving here really get me to London?
On a good note, I get my last Captain and Coke here. Ahhhh...I'll miss you, old friend.
4:00pm. We're leaving Raleigh, and will arrive in London at 7:00am. We're flying a Boeing 777, and it looks very new. It's awesome. TVs in the seat in front of you, and you are provided with headphones. They've got like ten radio stations, two or three TV stations, and two movies going on the flight. I'm impressed. Also, I've got an aisle seat, the seat next to me is open, and there is decent leg room here. I'm happy.
I watched In Good Company, and I'd really wanted to see it ever since Topher made the comment in Ocean's 12, "Dude, I TOTALLY mailed it in in that Denis Quaid movie." I also thought it looked like kind of a funny movie. Well, I was wrong. It was kind of depressing, actually. I just felt misled about what kind of movie it was.
I fucking love that Lifehouse song, "You and Me". If you haven't heard it, go check it out. It was playing on the radio on the plane.
There's a blonde British girl in front of me. Cute, but not hot. I end up talking to her for a while, and am surprised to realize that yes, I would sleep with her (quick aside: sleep means sleep with and kiss, not have sex with. Sleep means sleep, sex means sex. I hate how when you say you slept with someone, everyone assumes you had sex. Drives me crazy. Sorry, back to the trip...). Why are foreign accents so cute and attractive? I don't even like the British accent that much. I seriously am confused here. Can anyone explain this to me? I'd love to see comments.
Fuck you American Airlines. I'm pissed at them for another reason which I won't go into here, but now I'm mad at them because they've gotten rid of free booze on international flights. Not only that, but they want $5 for those rinky dink glasses they use. Is that even a shot? I hate you, American. But thank you for getting me to Europe safely.
Why yes, Sam and I do need pillows for the trip. Why yes, these small sized pillows from the airplane would do nicely, and why yes, two do happen to fit in my day pack...
7:00am Tuesday, May 24th. London, England. Okay, the plane just touched down, and I swear to God the pilot almost flipped the plane on its right side as we landed. Without question, that was the worst landing I've ever experienced in my life, and was probably the scariest moment I've ever had on an airplane. Wow. Let's work on that, okay buddy?
We hop on the train from the airport to the Chunnel station, and I start conversing with an attractive Danish lady sitting across from me. We have the following exchange:
"So what brings you to England?"
"I'm here on vacation."
"Well why in the Hell did you come to England, then?"
It's at this time that I should point out that it was a beautiful British day: 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and drizzling to raining. Lovely. I should also point out that I liked her. A lot.
Every Brit wearing a tie has purple or pink in the tie. EVERY SINGLE ONE. It's incredible. Most of their suits have some lavender or pink in them, too. Is this a law? Do you have to wear those colors in London? I'm very confused. And I'm not trying to question the Brits' manhood here, but seeing that many guys dressed like that made me, well, let's just say I have a little bit more of an idea of what it must be like to be in prison.
Props to the British ladies, however: you are fricking HOT! Wow! I must say in hindsight, I was MUCH more impressed with British women than with French women. And very few instances of bad teeth, too! Here's something Sam and I concluded, and worked very much in their favor: British women wear clothes to make their bodies look better. Here's what I mean. In America, most of the women are infatuated with the Cosmo/Model/Waife look (not a fan), and try to dress like that, even if their bodies are not like that. In England, the women dressed to accentuate whatever their best feature was. I must say, their way is better.
And riding boots, riding boots everywhere! That is SO FRICKING HOT.
So we get our Chunnel tickets, and have a few hours to kill. We go see the Thames, which is just as filthy as everything I've read. In fact, I must say that London is the filthiest city I've ever seen, and I've been in some dirty ghettos in my life. There is graffiti everywhere. I mean literally on everything. There also seems to be trash everywhere. Excuse me, rubbish. I saw a billboard that actually referred to "rubbish". I seriously laughed out loud.
Checked out Big Ben, meaning we walked up to it, said wow, and took a picture. It is pretty cool...what can you say, it's a big mother fucking clock.
We went to Westminster Abbey next. It's right across the street from Big Bend. There were a lot of signs saying, "Stop killing our children!", and we eventually realized they were about the war, not about abortion or something like that. Let's just say we were glad that we weren't wearing our "Everything's bigger in Texas" shirts. Don't think Bush was too popular with the crowd there.
Westminster Abbey was pretty impressive. The kings carved into the church were fantastic, you'll see the pics once Sam gets back and we can load all of our pics online. There are also a bunch of statues of legendary leaders in front of Westminster Abbey. We were surprised to find that a US President made the list. Can you guess which one? I'll tell you later.
One thing I forgot to mention: before we went to the Thames, we stopped and got breakfast. An incredibly beautiful woman had highly recommended fish and chips to me back home before we left, so naturally I tried to get fish and chips. Unfortunately, it was 10:00am, and the friers weren't turned on. Here's what the British "Big Country Breakfast" was: Two eggs sunny side up, toast, a pork sausage, and a TON of baked beans. It wasn't bad...but it wasn't great. I'm very disappointed I didn't get fish and chips, as I love fish, and I'm sure I would be a fan of the chips.
Anyway, so that was about it. We headed back, boarded the Chunnel, and passed out on the ride down there. Don't ask me about the British/French countryside because I was sound asleep. Sorry.
The president was Abraham Lincoln. :-)
Coming soon: Eurotrip, Part 2: Ah, Gay Paris.
I think I'm going to do this as somewhat of a running diary. Times will be estimated. If this isn't working, I'll write the rest in a different style.
5:00am Monday, May 23rd. Irving, Texas. Sam and I are going to bed. We're getting up at 8:00am to go get breakfast, get my hair cut, and be ready for the guy to pick us up at 10:00am. For those of you who don't know us, I'm 6'7", and Sam is 6'6". We're scared to death of our 8 hour plane ride, so the plan is to stay up all night, and be so exhausted that we just pass out on the plane. We've been up packing and doing laundry all night. Since I'm a procrastinator and a night owl anyway, this has been fun for me, and I think Sam's the same way.
10:00am. We've had a nice big breakfast at Grandys (we had no idea when we were going to get to eat, so All You Can Eat Breakfast Buffet, here we come!). A shout out to Super Shuttle here: the guy was supposed to pick us up at 10:00am, and he called at 10:00:05am. I mean, we couldn't believe it.
Noon. We're at the airport, and I just realized I left my Mavericks and OSU basketball shorts at home. The only shorts I have with me are one pair of Khaki shorts. Shit. Way to start strong. And there goes impressing all the German women with my Mavs shorts.
1:00pm. Flight leaves on time, I immediately fall asleep and sleep damn near the whole time to Raleigh, North Carolina.
3:00pm. Raleigh, North Carolina. Raleigh International Airport isn't as big as Love Field. It's not even close. There's one ACC shop here, looks like 3, maybe 4 restaurants/bars, AND THAT'S IT. I don't think I've ever been in an airport this small. How the fuck is this an International Airport? Are we going to die? Can a plane leaving here really get me to London?
On a good note, I get my last Captain and Coke here. Ahhhh...I'll miss you, old friend.
4:00pm. We're leaving Raleigh, and will arrive in London at 7:00am. We're flying a Boeing 777, and it looks very new. It's awesome. TVs in the seat in front of you, and you are provided with headphones. They've got like ten radio stations, two or three TV stations, and two movies going on the flight. I'm impressed. Also, I've got an aisle seat, the seat next to me is open, and there is decent leg room here. I'm happy.
I watched In Good Company, and I'd really wanted to see it ever since Topher made the comment in Ocean's 12, "Dude, I TOTALLY mailed it in in that Denis Quaid movie." I also thought it looked like kind of a funny movie. Well, I was wrong. It was kind of depressing, actually. I just felt misled about what kind of movie it was.
I fucking love that Lifehouse song, "You and Me". If you haven't heard it, go check it out. It was playing on the radio on the plane.
There's a blonde British girl in front of me. Cute, but not hot. I end up talking to her for a while, and am surprised to realize that yes, I would sleep with her (quick aside: sleep means sleep with and kiss, not have sex with. Sleep means sleep, sex means sex. I hate how when you say you slept with someone, everyone assumes you had sex. Drives me crazy. Sorry, back to the trip...). Why are foreign accents so cute and attractive? I don't even like the British accent that much. I seriously am confused here. Can anyone explain this to me? I'd love to see comments.
Fuck you American Airlines. I'm pissed at them for another reason which I won't go into here, but now I'm mad at them because they've gotten rid of free booze on international flights. Not only that, but they want $5 for those rinky dink glasses they use. Is that even a shot? I hate you, American. But thank you for getting me to Europe safely.
Why yes, Sam and I do need pillows for the trip. Why yes, these small sized pillows from the airplane would do nicely, and why yes, two do happen to fit in my day pack...
7:00am Tuesday, May 24th. London, England. Okay, the plane just touched down, and I swear to God the pilot almost flipped the plane on its right side as we landed. Without question, that was the worst landing I've ever experienced in my life, and was probably the scariest moment I've ever had on an airplane. Wow. Let's work on that, okay buddy?
We hop on the train from the airport to the Chunnel station, and I start conversing with an attractive Danish lady sitting across from me. We have the following exchange:
"So what brings you to England?"
"I'm here on vacation."
"Well why in the Hell did you come to England, then?"
It's at this time that I should point out that it was a beautiful British day: 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and drizzling to raining. Lovely. I should also point out that I liked her. A lot.
Every Brit wearing a tie has purple or pink in the tie. EVERY SINGLE ONE. It's incredible. Most of their suits have some lavender or pink in them, too. Is this a law? Do you have to wear those colors in London? I'm very confused. And I'm not trying to question the Brits' manhood here, but seeing that many guys dressed like that made me, well, let's just say I have a little bit more of an idea of what it must be like to be in prison.
Props to the British ladies, however: you are fricking HOT! Wow! I must say in hindsight, I was MUCH more impressed with British women than with French women. And very few instances of bad teeth, too! Here's something Sam and I concluded, and worked very much in their favor: British women wear clothes to make their bodies look better. Here's what I mean. In America, most of the women are infatuated with the Cosmo/Model/Waife look (not a fan), and try to dress like that, even if their bodies are not like that. In England, the women dressed to accentuate whatever their best feature was. I must say, their way is better.
And riding boots, riding boots everywhere! That is SO FRICKING HOT.
So we get our Chunnel tickets, and have a few hours to kill. We go see the Thames, which is just as filthy as everything I've read. In fact, I must say that London is the filthiest city I've ever seen, and I've been in some dirty ghettos in my life. There is graffiti everywhere. I mean literally on everything. There also seems to be trash everywhere. Excuse me, rubbish. I saw a billboard that actually referred to "rubbish". I seriously laughed out loud.
Checked out Big Ben, meaning we walked up to it, said wow, and took a picture. It is pretty cool...what can you say, it's a big mother fucking clock.
We went to Westminster Abbey next. It's right across the street from Big Bend. There were a lot of signs saying, "Stop killing our children!", and we eventually realized they were about the war, not about abortion or something like that. Let's just say we were glad that we weren't wearing our "Everything's bigger in Texas" shirts. Don't think Bush was too popular with the crowd there.
Westminster Abbey was pretty impressive. The kings carved into the church were fantastic, you'll see the pics once Sam gets back and we can load all of our pics online. There are also a bunch of statues of legendary leaders in front of Westminster Abbey. We were surprised to find that a US President made the list. Can you guess which one? I'll tell you later.
One thing I forgot to mention: before we went to the Thames, we stopped and got breakfast. An incredibly beautiful woman had highly recommended fish and chips to me back home before we left, so naturally I tried to get fish and chips. Unfortunately, it was 10:00am, and the friers weren't turned on. Here's what the British "Big Country Breakfast" was: Two eggs sunny side up, toast, a pork sausage, and a TON of baked beans. It wasn't bad...but it wasn't great. I'm very disappointed I didn't get fish and chips, as I love fish, and I'm sure I would be a fan of the chips.
Anyway, so that was about it. We headed back, boarded the Chunnel, and passed out on the ride down there. Don't ask me about the British/French countryside because I was sound asleep. Sorry.
The president was Abraham Lincoln. :-)
Coming soon: Eurotrip, Part 2: Ah, Gay Paris.
posted by Michael Pondrom at 9:02 PM
5 Comments:
Shit.
Michael
No ride in the "Eye"?
My favorite thing about London:
The pilot and train people announcing that everything is on "shedule".
What can I say? I like to use quotations in my sentences.
Also, who said what in your conversation with the Danish lady. Something tells me you are leaving something out of the story.
And what sort of Danishes was the Danish Lady selling?
Mmmm... Danishes...
-Homer
Bo, we saw the eye, and took pictures of The Eye, but decided said Eye was not worth our pound sterling.
I hate the word shedule with all of my heart and soul, and yes, they all say that over there. It didn't drive me completely crazy, though, because that is their country, and their language. But it REALLY bothers me when an American says that.
Lemon filled Danishes. The best kind.
Michael
Post a Comment
<< Home