Friday, February 21, 2014

The Traveling Traveler Vol. 1: Post #8: London

As I sat in Heathrow Airport...

and stared at the airport monitor and awaited my 10.5 hour flight back to Los Angeles, I watched my flight get delayed 12 minutes at a time and I couldn't help but wonder how I ended up here.

11:57...
12:33...
13:09...

Quite honestly, I was in no rush to get back to LA. I had bootleg BEATS headphones that I acquired in Istanbul that were sure to break at any moment. My backpack straps were on their last legs and I would have to go work the day after I landed. But all in all this trip had been a whirlwind adventure most of which I could remember.

However, this is not why I wanted to get on the plane.

I needed to get on this plane because I was drunk. Belligerently.

The details of last night were really a blur. Seriously.

It was only supposed to be a 20 hour layover in London. But then the hostile had a fully stocked bar. And after I gave up on seeing the sights at night, getting drunk seemed the next best thing. The greatest thing in fact.

The time was 20:45: Enter the Aussie.

Me and the Aussie (or the Aussie and I) met at the opposite ends of our world tours. He was just beginning as I was here to conclude. So we began to share the tales of wonder and merriment of our times traveling.

We agreed that Spain was home to some of the most beautiful women this world will ever be blessed with.

We agreed that Paris is for fags. And not cigarettes.

We also agreed that it doesn't matter if you're black or white, it's all about the love you have for the world in the things that live in it. *MESSAGE*

What I did not know was that sharing travel stories must be accompanied by drinking. Heavily. I complied.

The time was now 21:30. The Aussie and I had split about 3 rounds at this point. And then karaoke started.

A free drink was offered to anyone brave enough to participate.

Enter I.

I already being drunk decided to perform (flawlessly might I add) an ode to my current city of Los Angeles in the form of Snoop Doggy Lion's classic hit "What's My Name" to the pleasure of a cheering crowd.

And then we drank some more. 2 Shots from the DJ for my Aussie friend and I. A round of Pilsner's for my Aussie friend and I from the bartender.

The time was now 23:07. I was then presented with scotch neat from the random old white guy who was singing Etta James. This is where things get hazy. Blackout.

The time was now 23:59. My Aussie friend an I were presented 4 Rounds of shots from the random white girls from Texas who were very impressed with my comprehension of "Superman-ing that hoe".

And of course another round from my Aussie friend who by the way was just as drunk as me. Blackout.

The time now was 0:57. So I went out side to smoke a fag wit some blokes I met inside and things began to get hazier.

And then I blacked out.

The time was now 1:17. I found myself back in my 4 person room preparing my electronic devices for departure and then much to my dismay I blacked out again...I think in the middle of a conversation with someone in my room.

The time was now 9:01. I wake up to find a naked Asian girl in my room that was not there the night before. Pretty hot too.

Or was she. Fuck. I really can't remember. I just know I had to get to the airport on the tube.

Exit I. And I left the lock I just brought at the hostile for my trunk and instructed the hosts to give it to someone for free. Share the luck. Get it.

Blackout yet again.

The time was 11:57. And now I sit in Heathrow Airport a little more drunk then I was when I began writing this because of the free alcohol samples I have just consumed by walking around the terminal looking for a shoe shiner. Dumb decision. Blackout.

The time is now 13:21. And we are about to board this plane now. Its so long to Europe and one crazy ass night in London. I will miss you for now.

And hopefully I'll be able to fill in the blanks of last night after time traveling (read: stupid drunk) across the United States of these Americas.

Seriously.
I got my picture with the guard though.
Cheers.

1 comment:

  1. "We agreed that Paris is for fags. And not cigarettes." My fave line. I died. Glad you had fun, though!

    ~ DeVonna J.

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