Wednesday, 20 June 2007

Travel VII, Viking Tales

I wrote this on paper as I was going along, except the last bit in the hotel.

At the Gate
What's really annoying is a short fat security bloke grinning and saying "enjoy your flight" after he's searched me, emptied my bag and confiscated my hair gel and deodorant. He wanted me to hit him so that he could throw me out but I didn't give him the satisfaction. Keep singing fat boy.

Waiting to Take Off
Sitting at the gate I was thinking, why didn't I go for a hot dog? It's the only good thing about Brussels Airport, I had time, I even walked past the bar where they sell the hot dogs. There was a group of girls in tracksuits at the gate, two of them started rolling around and stretching on the floor. Definately a sports team, most definately Scandinavian. I don't know how they ever get anything done in Scandinavia, I couldn't concentrate on anything if I lived in one of those countries.

I don't normally watch the safety demonstration but this stewardess, she could sell me used car twice a day. I even had to tell the people in front to shut up, I couldn't concentrate.

In Flight
No used car but she did sell me a tuna sandwich, some Pringles and a diet coke. Then I found out she's Belgian. I don't normally eat Pringles, I'm against the packaging on environmental grounds. And I don't really like the taste. The fella across the aisle from me has brought his own food, fruit and cake. I hate that word "food", it really grates on me, has done ever since I can remember.

Just woke up in time for landing procedure. I slept through most of the flight, bonus.

I notice that Brussels Airlines has a "b" theme in it's marketing plan, the menu is called "b.delicious", the rubbish bag is called "b.tidy". So I though of one of my own; "b.give me my sodding deodorant back".

In the Hotel
I put my stuff down sorted out a quick phone conference with Brussels and Germany and set off to explore the locale. I think it's best summed up like this:

Ringnes Pilsner 39kr / pint (4.85 euro)
Frydenlund (dark) 48kr / pint (5.97)
cigarettes 68kr (8.46)
kebab 49kr (6.09)
six pack Ringnes 33cl 48kr

I went to Cacadou bar on Torggata, it's just up the road from People's bar which is on a square near the Parliament building.

It's 11.30pm, just starting to get dark, goodnight.


Monday, 18 June 2007

Crazy Train

JJ Meets Ozzy Osbourne's grandmother

Obviously this was long time ago, let's say the friend was called Potpal Abihsot, what with us being all Injuns an' all. Anyway, we were doing the studenty thing that students do with beer, cider, thunderbird and things, the upshot was that the following Friday Potpal and I had to go to Huddersfield so that he could get laid.

My role was to facilite a quick getaway in case Mother, Father, Brothers or any other unspecified relatives interrupted the proceedings. A bold plan considering the transport was British Rail and a couple of Student Cards.

I used to love travelling on British Rail in those days, I was chemically addicted to the microwave cheeseburgers. I met Roy Hattersley at Sheffield station once and just grinned inanely. I think he thought I was pleased to see him but I had just sat down with a cheeseburger. I would have had the same response to Attila the Hun.

So, I got my coaching on the train over, "the train stops near the college, we'll go to the college and find them, you keep the friends sweet and distract them while I slip off and sort her out. If you get any it's a bonus but we meet back at the station at 5 - 6pm".

Seemed simple enough, but by the time we got to the college I could'nt remember the way back to the effin' station. He dissapeared like a ferret up a train driver's arse and there I was with two soppy girlies and a would be Steve Gutenberg. We grabbed a sarnie at the college canteen and took it to the park where WBSG paraded his Kung Fu techniques for us. Well, for them actually because all I was thinking was "Kung Fuck this, I'll eat my sarnie and politely move on to the nearst boozer", which is exactly what I did.

It was about three o'clock so I had a couple of beers and hammered the fruit machine before asking the way to the station. The amazing thing was that station wasn't far away but I didn't get there 'till seven.

Several beers later, keeping a close eye on the station whilst drinking and hammering another bandit, I realised I'd missed the boat. I sat down with my pint and turned my back on the station. This old bird sat next to me grinning like a stuffed sheep. She said "ooooh you're a lovely boy, you look just like Michael Jackon", I said "you look like Ozzy Osbourne's grandmother" she wasn't impressed. Apparently she was a regular and after much one-sided debate the landlord invited me to vacate the premises.

By the time I staggered to the station the last train had gone and I had to sleep on a bench on the platform until the 5.30am.

I stared out of the train window and chewed on another soggy cheesburger, my clothes felt like corrugated iron, I went home to sleep.