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: “heeeey.”

Me: “hey”.

CDBB: “soooo, can I ask you a question?”

Me: “sure”.

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.

B)  Train station, Thessaloniki (northern Greece).  5am.  Have ridden 11pm night train from Sofia (Bulgaria), mainly out of poverty. Had lovely time, was accosted by border guards, random intoxicated strangers, etc., then saved by non-English-speaking train-employee who am fairly sure put me in wrong compartment so as to skeezily watch me sleep.  In no way care, as was woken at 2am, 3am, and 4am by afore-mentioned border guards, who finally received American passport from me to do with as they willed in exchange for promise to bugger the fuck off.

Old Greek dude: “blah blah blah Greek words.”  gesturing with plastic Nescafe cup.

Me: “No thanks, I don’t really want your coffee, sir”.

OGD: “babble babble more Greek blah blah”.  Extensive Nescafe gesturing and offering, accompanied by various gruntings.

Me: “No really, it’s 5am, I’m just hangin out for the first train outta here, I really don’t need your Nescafe”.  Even though I LOVE Nescafe.

OGD: “blah blah BLAH blah blah, S……”

ME: “huh?”

OGD: “sssss….  Sssss.   Sex!”

Me: “wuu, NO!  No SIR!  I will NOT have sex with you, you old skeezy Greek dude, in exchange for 30 cents worth of Nescafe!!”  Sound of rapid scampering.

C)  Corfu.  The Pink Palace hostel.  Perhaps the grossest place on planet Earth.  In the off-season, when a 500+ bed hostel has approx. 10 guests. http://www.thepinkpalace.com/

Me: sitting fairly quietly and unobtrusively in the lobby while other 9 guests watch boot-legged copies of Greek-dubbed miserably-bad American movies.

Canadian muscle-type Bartender: “yo”

Me: “hey”

CMB: “so I hear you’re leavin on the ferry this evening.”

Me: “yup.  Going to Rome.”

CMB: “well, why you leavin?  You should stay!”

Me: “yeah, but it’s dead, there’s nothing to do here.”  Especially since this stupid hostel’s had me trapped for 3 days in the middle of nowhere, with no transport out, it’s too cold to beach, and I’m kinda sick of watching you try to fuck everything on the island.  Including the goats.

CMB: “well, there’s always me.”

Me: “umm.  Too bad I heard you bragging about how you wouldn’t use a condom when you fucked that 17 year-old drunk chick the night I got here.”

CMB: “Oh.  Shit.”

D)  Pamplona, Day 1, Running of the Bulls.  Waiting on street for peeing brother (I love you, Jarrod!)

Old Dude Standing a Couple Feet Over: “blah blah blah como estan?”

Me: “ahh, mi espanol es si malo…  Muy bueno?”

OD: “blah blahdedy blah, es bien.  Te gusta blah blah something?”

Me: “yeah… Yo really no comprendo Catalan?”

OD: “pero, blah blah blah”.  Obscene gesture involving a tongue.  Meaning is quite clear. “si.  Es MUY bueno, hee hee, giggle.”

Me: “ Ugh!  Really?  Again with the old foreign dudes??”  Sound of rapid scampering.

E1)  Koh Lipe island, Thailand.  Sitting alone reading on porch of my bungalow, at Pooh’s Place, circa 2am.  Enter hostel worker.

Me: “hey, what’s up?”

Hotel Dude: “Not much.  Off season.  Want share beer?”

Me: “Sure, no worries.”  I mean, not really, I’m kinda reading and wanted to pass out, but whatever, free beer.

HD: returning with beer, most probably stolen from Pooh’s cooler.  Pooh being passed out from WAY too much warm Heineken, drunk earlier with me and lovely Thai waitress.  “Beer.  Good”.

Me: “truth.”

HD: blah blah chitchat crap.  “and all Thai think I am lady-boy!  I NOT lady-boy!  I like women very much!”

Me: umm.  “oh, so you’re not Thai?”

HD: “No.  I Myanmar.  I NOT lady-boy!  I just very lonely.  No women on tiny Koh Lipe”.

Me: umm.  I believe I have now heard my exit cue…  “Well, I’m very sorry for that.  I’m very sure you’re indeed not a lady-boy.  I’m going to bed now, thanks for the beer!”

HD: “You go bed?”

Me: “yes.”

HD: “You go sleep?”

Me: “yes.”

HD: “I sleep with you?”

Me: “indeed not.”

HD: “But you go bed?”

Me: “yup.”

HD: “And we sleep together.”

Me: “well…. still NOT.”

HD: “oh, kay.”  Terribly pathetic puppy dog face.

Me: “night then!”

Sounds of door shutting, teeth scrubbing, pj emplacement, door locking, and light turning-off.  Also let me mention I NEVER lock doors.  Lazy.

Approximately 60 seconds pass.

WHACK.

Oh Jesus fuck, that dude just tried to break    WHACK    the door in.  like, hard.  Wow, twice in 1 night is just too much, I gotta get the crap off this fuckin island…

In despite of which, I really liked Pooh and his Place, great food, great price, great location, etc., and I would like to say publicly that I’m really very very sorry I accidentally walked off with my room key.  Sorry Pooh!

http://www.poohlipe.com/

E2)  Approximately 5 hours earlier…  Lonely un-lit path on Koh Lipe Island, Intrepid Traveler #1 walking to beach to meet random friends from day previous.  Fourteen-year old boy and two young brothers approach from behind.  And no, this island really isn’t skeezy at all, it’s just the off season?

Me: walking walking, dum de dum.

14yo: walks closer.  “You have baht?”

Me: “uhh…”

14yro: “you like good time?”

Me: Jesus Christ, kid, you’re 14 and I’m a chick…

14yo: “you pay good time??”  Sound of young brothers sniggering.

Me: “uhh, ick?  I mean, no thanks!”

14yo: grabs my arm, hard. “Yes.  Good time.  You pay… 1500 TBH!”

Me: Now, I know I’m being accosted / date raped / propositioned by a FOURTEEN YEAR OLD BOY, but really?  1500TBH?  That’s like, US$45, and I just think that’s way overpriced.  I mean, I know a “happy ending”-type deal in Bangkok is like, US$10, so this really just can’t be right.  Maybe I could bargain?  Wait, shit, then I’d have to… follow through?  Best to run.

“Nope!”.  Sound of rapid scampering and slight ripping of arm skin.

F)  Antalia, Turkey, hostel courtyard.  First night out the States for our Intrepid Pick-Up-Line-Denier.  Much jet-lag.  Table of Swedes, Danes, and other assorted Scandinavian types sitting loudly nearby.

Me: “hey, y’all, mind if I join?  You sound entertaining, and otherwise I’m gonna pass out standing I’m so tired!”

Scandinavians: “Sure!  Da!  Sweet!  Please drink weird alcohol out of our pilfered coke bottles!”

Me: “awesome!”

Segue to like, fuckin 3 weeks later, during which time one of said Scandinavians (all others of whom were just lovely!), THE DANE, has perpetually stalked me around Turkey.  Like, 4 cities.  Numerous buses.  Actual plane tickets were stalked and copied.  Hostels and even an all-female dorm-room were invaded by THE DANE.  Like, THE DANE is very nice and all (really, he really is), but this has gotten friggin ridiculous!  Intrepid Traveller #1 now so peeved  she boards a night-train to Romania in an attempt to flee…

Me: standing on track.  Notice THE DANE approaching.  How?  Why?? Sound of rapid scampering.

THE DANE: “hi!  I need to say something before you go.”

Me: “nope.  Nope ya really don’t.”

THE DANE: “well, I’m going to anyway.  I’ve fallen in love w—“

Me: “NOPE.  Nope ya haven’t.  bye!”

Tempo of scampering increasing…

Now, I realize that that was not a list of 5 events, but really, 5 wouldn’t’a done it justice.  Also, do we see a pattern here?  Perhaps to do with Canadians?  Or maybe just foreigners?  I think we do.  With which extensive introduction I shall again segue, this time to the actual point of this post…

Nina’s All-Time Favorite Pick-Up Line Ever Used By a Foreigner In My General Direction:

“Well, I guess you’re cute enough.”

And yup, you guessed it.  He’s Australian, and I’m marrying the guy (I love you, Chris!).