This is me talking about me and what I did while I was being me in a country that wasn't mine during a time period I doubt it makes sense to lay claim to to be honest.
So off I go on my merry travels across the Atlantic. Except they weren't merry because I was stuck next to a woman and her crying baby. However luckily I waited the fifteen miles until we were out in international waters and I hurled the two of them out the door. They certainly had an entertaining flight on their way down to the atlantic. Eventually after eighteen years of my life have passed and twenty three more have been shaved off the end of my life we land in kennedy airport. It was big, which incidentally made it really shit because most airports, all of which are necessarily shit, are smaller and hence there is less shitness infecting the world. Bigger isn't always better dudes.
Anyways some indeterminate number of hangovers later I get a job working in a 7/11. Yes haha very funny **** you in the ass never order a hotdog from one of those stores for the love of god and sweet merciful jesus. I got a raise though! From 7 dollars to 7.50 an hour. Which is a bit hard to be thankful for when the best analogy I can think of is getting beaten for 10 hours a day in a vietnamese prisoner of war camp as opposed to being beaten for 12 hours a day. I got free food though and free magazines. Oh and a friend of mine worked there with me (we did the night shifts together) so we'd invent new games every night involving various types of balls and play until something broke. I struggle to think of how we got a raise considering there were video cameras everywhere in the store. Turns out foreign people are just really incompetent I guess.
So new york passes by much like this interspersed with a lot of drinking and some sight-seeing. We did the tourist shit like the statue of liberty and the empire state building and ground zero, which rather surprisingly looks like most other empty spaces I've seen around the world. Greenwich village is a nice place to go out. Which meant we only went there once. Got banned from our local club actually after the night of table hopping, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Never get three irishmen drunk in a foreign country. Other things may have happened in new york. I can't honestly say (without opening myself up to numerous court cases that is).
Then we met up with the other three lads and went on to vegas. Didn't win much money playing poker there unfortunately (up maybe a hundred or a hundred and fifty dollars). Clubs were expensive but cool, we got into some nicely slick ones. The strip was great fun wandering at night, somehow managed to end up in profit from playing drunken roulette. Oh yeah everything alcoholic is basically one dollar in vegas as what you do is sit by a slot machine or gaming table, gamble slowly and order anything you want off the cocktail waitresses and just tip them a dollar when they get back with your drink. There was one waitress in the hotel where we stayed, the stratosphere, whose kids I think we put through college. Went on the rides at the top of that hotel which shoot you out over the edge and are generally good for scaring your date witless. American women love the irish accent dudes, if you ever go there just pretend to be irish seriously.
Next it was california. We got badly drunk every night for 29 days in a row. We were only stopped by a horrendously long bus journey we couldn't drink on. Also greyhound busses are designed for skinny midgets and should certainly come with a health warning. Went to santa barbara first, couldn't find a place, stayed in a motel, went to the beach and drank heavily (discovered steel reserve, an 8.3% beer there, now believe in god thanks to the argument from miracles). Decided after a week of this that a change in scenery would be nice so we all ****ed off up to san francisco, oh at this point one of the guys had gone home because he lost 4000 dollars in vegas which was pretty funny until we realised he could have given each of us 800 dollars and we could have danced a jig for 12 hours for his entertainment. Anyways he went home claiming he had a headache, I'd never actually rolled on the floor laughing out loud in real life until he told us all this as we arrived in santa barbara.
So along comes san francisco. First thing you do is notice it's cold. Second thing you do is notice it's hilly. Third thing you do is wonder how the **** they found a cold hill on the coast of california. Fourth thing you do is wonder which idiot built a city there. Fifth thing we did was find an irish pub. Stayed in a hostel there, didn't meet too many excessively shit people which was nice. Hooked up on the first night and had frequent sex which was better than nice. Saw the golden gate bridge which has un****ing believably short side railings and makes you wonder how many cyclists crash and fly over the side every year. Went out to alcatraz which has this really cool audio tour inside the prison but is otherwise eight inches deep in ****ing bird shit. Shook the hand of the bushman who is this homeless guy who jumps out and scares people from behind two bundles of grass he holds in his hands and is highly entertaining. Ate poorly at best, we discovered a way of getting half-price burger king, which ended up taking years off my life. We did eat well in this moderately famous chinese restaurant called the empress of china though. California can be really shit with everywhere closing at 1:30 but we were always well stocked up and good to go until 6am most days. I think I managed to drink a bottle of whiskey after a heavy night out but I'm presuming the fact I woke up alive the next morning is a good argument against that theory. Went to see the san francisco giants play a baseball game. Everything is overpriced like they're selling food in new orleans and the ****ing fog floats down onto the field below the upper tiers. Bizzare city.
Eventually I wander down to LA to visit my relatives, who are all about 6-15 years older than me (my cousins that is, obviously my aunt and uncles are much older and my cousins' kids are much younger) and have jobs and are responsible and shit and I'm all like yeah dropped out of college for the second time and I'm taking the year out but I don't have a job yet and
HOW'S THAT 72 HOUR WORKING WEEK GOING FOR YOU THEN?. They paid for everything for me though, which meant I saw Disneyworld, welcome to the world's happiest queue asshole, and the san diego zoo and wild animal park and universal studios and went to some good restaurants and couldn't pay even when I wanted to. Oh and clothes are dead shit cheap in the US (must be so much more expensive shipping all those sweatshop manufactured gear from southeast asia to europe than from southeast asia to america
). Packed my bag to the nth degree (when I arrived in the airport to go home it was a 25 dollar surcharge for bags over 50 lbs and mine was exactly 50.0. I felt massively ahead until I remembered we had a 28 hour journey home with two stopovers.
I died on the way back, I am posting this from the afterlife. These have been the random recollections of a member of the brotherhood of the travelling faggotry. And we didn't share any goddamn pants.
I went to California when I was 8 - Disneyland/San Francisco. Sadly I don't remember any of it except what I have in photos.
Re: Brotherhood of the travelling faggotry
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