It’s 1pm and I’ve been sitting in this stupid courtyard, on this stupid hill, in stupid Turkey for nearly 7 hours now. I’m not the first to be suckered by a Turk, and I surely won’t be the last, but I’ll be damned if I sit here any longer. It’s time for action! I’ve been kidnapped into a Turkish film set, and I’m getting out of here, now!
So, I’m like, somewhere in the middle of Turkey, and I haven’t been back to my hostel in a couple days. It’s partly cause I’m being stalked all over Europe by THE DANE (see Travel Rule #5), but mainly cause I’ve been drunk in a cave with some Turkish cowboys for some time now. Oh, and clubbing. And also night motorcycling with licorice liquor. And smoking lovely local products? Oh, and also starting a giant bar fight involving a German Sheppard, thrown tables, and some off-duty cops. You know, the regular ole disaster… Read the rest of this entry
Normally when I go travelling, I make it a rule to ignore bad pick-up lines (and trust me, they abound). Herewith, in no particular order, are the Top Five Worst Pick-up Lines Personally Experienced by Me:
A) Somewhere in an Athens hostel. Population of room: two. Intrepid Traveler #1 hops off her top bunk at the crack of hungover, in an effort to at least attempt to do something with her day (circa like, 11am). Sounds of tooth-brushing.
Me: brush brush scrub
Canadian dude sleeping in the bottom bunk: “ugh, unh, vomit”.
Me: Christ, I know that kid got in at like, 7am, must suck ass.
CDBB: “soooo, can I ask you a question?”
CDBB: “so, do you like sex in the morning?”
Me: “uhh…. Sure.”
CDBB: gesturing to own bunk-bed: “Well get over here then.”
Me: “um.” Shoulda seen that one coming. As it were. Read the rest of this entry