What you've all been waiting for ...

[Dace]

.... "The Italy Story"



(it's long btw ... just so you're warned)

[Weeks]

erm.

[Embroglio]

oh **** off

im going to bed, work in 4 hours

nn


ps. maybe read later!

[Dace]

BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE



The pub, 8 pints of stella and I was in touch with my drunk side.

There was a party and (simply) ”everybody” was invited.

It didn’t take much to convince me.



I was in Bury (St Edmonds) for the summer. Monsanto was ramping up it’s field trials of GM crops and I was part of it. Part of the future. My job, should I chose to accept it, and I did, was to take fauna and flora (plant and margarine) samples. These tell those who know their confidence intervals from their tea breaks what shit is whack. Hours a day of field work. In the open. Getting tanned. Getting buff. This is what my summer was shaping up to be. I liked it. Alot.

I’d gotten this job due to the husband of my mums friend. These “friends of the family” had a daughter 9 months younger than me. She was fit. So were her friends. It was no hardship spending my free time in her company.

I lived “on site”. I could wake up 15 minutes before I started and after taking a shower and getting dressed still make it to work on time. Life was good. My week was spent there. My weekends were spent “in town”.



So this Friday was like most others.

I’d had a slightly-longer-than-usual 10 hour working day “out in the fields”. I got home. Got showered. Got ready. Got out. Town was waiting.

Drank my 8 pints and found myself at the start of a story.



“The Party” was “just outside Bury”. Couple of minutes in a taxi. No biggie.

I’m ****ed as it is so the travel time was pretty much instantaneous.

If they can just harness the power of drunkenness I’m sure FTL travel is within out reach.



We get “there”. Me, Daughter, her boyfriend and a couple of random people. Random people who weren’t so random at the time. Who were, in fact, more like my best friends. “Love is all around”





“There” is a farm house out in the middle of Suffolk*.



One of the barns has been converted.

The guy. The person who I don’t know but who’s party I’m at. That guy is one lucky ****. A lucky **** with indulgent parents. THEE BARN is a “live-at-home”’s wet dream.

Downstairs: Entering through the pine door you find yourself in a generously appointed living space the likes of which puts most urban proportions to shame. A drum kit and band space is set up in one corner. The remainder of the floor is draped with sofas, armchairs and giant cushions. There is a fully equipped kitchen at the far end of the room.

Upstairs: Walking up the broad spiraling staircase you arrive in an undecorated area bold in its uncluttered approach to ornamentation which boasts 6 beds, one of which is a double. A toilet/shower room is located at the end of the floor and this completes a truly grandiose foray into “student chic”.



”David it’s over to you”



So I’m at a party. I’m there and I’m ****ed. A joint is passed to me. I’m in the company of assorted art students. I don’t want to offend so I inhale. So they know I’m not really a big “smoker” I take a few too many drags. You know so they know I don’t know the ettiquitte. You know so they don’t pass to me again. As the cherry glows and glows you can see the light of expectation in their eyes dim and die.



Beer and dope.

Dope and beer.

Depressents all round and a lack of sleep.

Getting ****ed is what I’d hoped the end of the night would bring.

Somehow this interpretation is a letdown.



Plenty of people at the party.

Plenty of beds upstairs.

I book my spot early and crash out.



Bright.

Too bright.

It’s the next morning and the mother ****ing sun is ****ing ****ing with me.



Whether I like it (I don’t) or not (I don’t) I’ve woken up.

The sun is being a ****ing bastard and so, come to think of it (although it hurts), is my head.

It’s 8am and if I receive so much of a hint of a Robin-Williams-in-“Good Morning Vietnam”-greeting I’m gonna ****ing emasculate the ****er that ****s with me thus.



The bastard of the situation is “I don’t”.

The bastard of the situation is there’s only one other person sleeping on this floor.

In this building in fact.

This is not what I expected when I went to sleep last night.

Fair enough I wasn’t naive to think I’d get breakfast in bed but, you know, I’d kinda hoped, well, expected THE GOD DAMN MOTHER ****ING BITCH WHO I’D COME HERE WITH AND WHO WAS THE ONLY PERSON I REALLY KNEW OUT OF ALL THESE ****ERS TO STAY HERE OR AT LEAST TELL ME BEFORE SHE LEFT THE BITCH ****ING SLUT THAT SHE IS!



It’s 8 am.

The other person isn’t awake.

I find a book and read it.

You know “to pass the time”.

Did you know that when you sneeze for an unknown un- irritant related reason it’s because you have become aroused.

I didn’t.

I found that out that morning tho … the book told me.



10 o’clock arrive and I wake the other guy up.

Directions to Bury are:

”Take the first left and just keep walking straight on”

It’s only 4 miles.

Easily done within the hour.

Also more easily done than asking a friend of the family to come and pick you up in the middle of nowhere and “no you don’t know where you are” and “yes I know it’s 10am and your day off” and “please … I’m hungover to ****” and ”yes I’ve lost your daughter” and ”no I don’t know where she is” and ”but please pick me up”.



So I walk.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

Trying to experience nature.

Trying to lessen the pain.



And I walk.



Fields pass.



I walk.



More crops and grass and trees pass.



I walk.



I pass a country church which looks “well cool” but which I think I don’t appreciate fully.


I walk.



I walk.



I walk.



I can’t remember the outward journey so I don’t know how close, or far, I am.




I walk.



It turns out that the whole “4 miles to Bury” was a fiction.

The 4 miles was infact 12.

I know this because of the signs I pass.



I get into Bury Centre and I now know where I am and all other considerations like “OMFG I left Claire on her own” even tho I didn’t are seeped from my head like a soap and sugar bandage drawing out pus.

With my “new and improved” state of mind I phone “the friends of the family”.

You know to ask for a life.

”OH MY GOD this is soooooooooo funny. You’ll never guess what. OK I’ll tell you.”

Turns out Claire and her boyfriend stayed in the farmhouse.

They stayed there and got picked up.

By car.

30 minutes after I started my 3 hour hung-over stagger.

”OMFG THAT IS SOOOOOOOOOO FUNNY”

The car is on the way.

The car and my righteous fury.



So all that happened 3 years ago.

Time passes.

You think, you hope, you learn.

From your mistakes, life in general.

You hope that shit like that doesn’t happen again.

”Please God don’t let it be that bad again”

God needs some sort of audio assistance.



I’m in Italy.

First holiday abroad this year.

First holiday abroad in a long time.

I’m with my friends.

This is going to be good.



The night before my flight I have no sleep.

Gotta get packed.

Gotta get a 7am flight.



We arrive at Bergamo airport.

1 hour plus by bus to Milan.

A further hour to manage to find our way to out hotel.

”We’ll have a couple of hours sleep and get up at 6”

I have a couple of troubled hours sleep (it’s mother ****ing daylight what do you expect) but get up at 8 with the rest of them (NB we were not sharing beds).



Dinner is pizza, a beer and a litre of red.

I’m Scottish.

Alcohol is nothing to me.


After dinner, after a taxi closer to the centre we’re in a bar.

Not just any bar.

This bar sells Tennents and Tennents Super** on tap.

It’s like we’ve found a little piece of home.

They order pints of T whilst I get a pint of super ”for the novelty”.



Blah.

Blah.

Blah.



We’re all ****ed.

Some more than others.

Some perhaps, you know “maybe”, being me.

TBH I’m not showing it too much.

Too many years of fooling the bouncers in Scottish Clubs.

Clubs accustomed to wasters.

Clubs looking ”for any excuse”.



We get to The Fasion Café.

Apparantly this place is META HOT.

Anyways it’s ”International Night” so I get in.

For free.

Along with my buds.



Inside I now know why this place can afford cheap entry.

THE DRINKS ARE ****ING OUTRAGEOUS

8 euros per drink.

Doesn’t matter what drink it is … all are the same.

We find out (from the barman) that the drink with the most alcohol is a Long Island Ice Tea.

We order plenty of those.

The barman puts mostly shots into it.

He has to put the 10 or 20 mls of coke he adds (the rest is spirits).

You know ”for the colouring”.



We’re there for a while.

We move outside.

I go to the toilet.

I forget we’ve moved outside.

I go back to where we were standing inside.

”All my friends are gone”

”I better get them quick”




In that frame of mind I leave the club to get my friends.

Outside.

Which is not where they are.

The last photo of me is taken at 01:45.

I find this out later.



I wait for a while.

When it’s clear they’re not outside I decide to go home.

”Home” is some hotel in some street I don’t know.

I start walking in the general direction of it.

You know ”the smart approach”.





OK so now I’ve walked for 2 hours and I’ve ”hit” a motorway.

I’m pretty sure the motorway is prolly on the way.

I carry on walking.




Initially I’d been walking “up and to the right”.

When I hit the motorway I walked to the right.

I was pretty sure the hotel was around there somewhere.

I tried to cut back (down) to civilization.

The streets petered off after 2 so I have to head back.

This is probably the shit.

This is definitely what being drunk gets you.




A while (who knows?) later I hit another motorway.

I cant keep on going straight (ie to the right) any longer.

I need to go “down”.

So I do.

Logic can be a beautiful thing.



I walk.



I walk.



I walk and walk.



This shit is seriously ”not funny”.



I pass some kind of retail outlet store.

They were selling something in Italian.

I didn’t pay much attention.



The motorway eventually “hits” another one heading left.

It is well bright now.

Spring has sprung

Dawn has dawned.

If I was a vampire I’d be ash by now.



I walk.



And walk.



And walk.



And no matter how I tell it I can’t express how much I walked.

I can’t tell you how painful it was.

How much I traveled.




I’ve walked a shitload.

Italy doesn’t have a hard shoulder.

This means I have to walk on the 6 inch siding between the road line and the barrier.

This is with traffic coming at you from behind.

This is the time when you think of your own mortality.




”Do you have any idea of what the ‘air brush’ from a truck feels like when it passes within half a foot of you at 70 mph?”

I do.

It’s not a pleasant feeling.

Especially when it keeps on happening.

Again and again.

”Is this going to be the time?”

”The time when the driver gets distracted?”

”The time when the wheel is given an unexpected nudge?”

I had to walk on the other side of the barrier in 2 foot high grass.

It was hard going.



So at about 8am I pass a sign saying “Milano”.

HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa.

”Milano”

It’s 8 in the morning and I’m just entering Milano.

The place I’ve “just” left.



So now I know I’m in Milan I walk.

I keep on walking.

“Up and to the left”.

I’ll get home if it kills me.

And I know it just might.




At 09:15 I pass the canal with the pub where I bought the super (*shudder*).

I’m “on track”.

Well I hope so.



I keep on walking.

All I need now is an underground station to get home.

I keep on walking.



I get to the underground at the back of 10.

There are 3 lines in Milan.

After many unnecessary line swappings I eventually get where I’m going.



I get to the underground station near my hotel.

On the way home I’ve remembered the street my hotel is on (but not it’s name).

I know how to get home from here anyways.



I stagger in at 10:45.

9 hours after I was last seen.

9 hours during which I walked constantly.

9 hours in which I covered at least 35 miles.

Part of my life I don’t want to repeat.



THE END




*nowhere

**9% lager

[JonnyBGood]

That's unreal. I once walked from Dublin to Bray and I think that was about 15 miles. Nine hours is sickeningly unrealistic when you're drunk. How did you not die when the sun hit considering it's Italy?

[Dace]

BTW when i said i turned right after the second motorway i meant right (ie walking in a square).

[Dace]

Originally Posted by JonnyBGood

That's unreal. I once walked from Dublin to Bray and I think that was about 15 miles. Nine hours is sickeningly unrealistic when you're drunk. How did you not die when the sun hit considering it's Italy?

At about 5am, after 3 hours of walking i'd sobered up.

At that time my calves were burning sharp and clear.

At that time i thought "i know what would make a good story for GD".




On a serious note:

I have a strong will.

That is the only thing that got me through the experiemce.

You know knowing that if i was strong enough for long enough i could triupmh.

NOTHING CAN STOP ME NOW!

[Nondescript Human]

Heh. Dace's loss is GDs gain :)

[Phang]

i laughed, i am a heartless bastard.

[1-X]

in part one, you thought your friends had left you behind but they hadn't.

In part two, it's not clear what happened to them. Were they still there or did they abandon you?
Later, did you just continue your holiday with them as if nothing had happened? With no revenge? etc

[Dace]

In part 1 they didn't "tell" me anything.

In part 1 i'm pretty pissed off at my "friends".

In part 2 what i didn't say was my best m8 got up at 8 to go look for me and (obviously) didn't find me.

The holiday carried on without any trouble.

It was my **** up not theirs etc.

[Evergreen]

I've walked 20 miles all around Lanark once before (taking the scenic route).

Wasn't intentional, set out at like 11 am, got back to civilization about 5:30 pm, hit Marks and Sparks and prolly had the best tasting ham and mustard sandwich ever*

My feet were wrecked cause I was in my good shoes as I was merely planning a day trip to some LOTR exhibition out at some hunting house near Hamilton.

I sympathize with dace.

*prolly tasted the same as all others just like when you ain't eaten all day and you've truly exhausted yourself things take on a new level of taste like a good cool pint etc.

[Evergreen]

Oh, another similar dace story, mates from lochwinnoch call me up, want to do a pub crawl round glasgow, me being a total pissant back then agrees, we start off at the brunswick cellar which had on tap prolly the worst keg of kronenbourg ever (made a mate sick it was that bad).

Get round drinking lots of places, time get's on a bit and they are like ah shit last train is soon and we want to get home. I'm not done yet, I see em to the train station and hit the last stop we were at on our pub crawl (the Nile).

I sit there in a fancy pub alone knocking back a few more pints half watching sportscene (but by this time I was getting too drunk to actually pay attention to it). CAlling time and pubs close up, I'm thinking about another party in a couple days time and how much more booze I can get if I don't shed out almost 9 quid on an overcharging glasgow cab.

I know I says, it's a wednesday night, I've walked home plenty of times from ibrox safe an sound this late and I'm sure I can navigate home now. I try hard, desperately hard to remember the route that the bus comes into glasgow in. I don't drive so like the roads aren't natural to me (as of yet).

I know I have to get across the clyde to get home. I manage this several several times. Each time I end up in front of the mosque in glasgow, a mosque I didn't know about, a mosque that seemed to be at the end of all routes I took.

I give up and head back to union street and call a clyde 1 cab 'somehow' and sit in the doorway of burger king. It's nigh on 3 am, I've been walking in circles over bridges over the river clyde in glasgow for three hours adn couldn't get home.

I'm peeved and sore (being that I'm in uncomfortable good looking shoes).

Pay 6 quid for the taxi drive home, still make the party and bless my 9 lives I didn't get ****ing mugged like the plonker I am at times.

[IncubusGod]

marry me Dace!

[Dante Hicks]

I've had to walk a ridiculously distance along a motorway once. It was in South Africa. After some interdeterminate number of miles (like Italy they have no hard shoulder so you're basically walking on the road) I decided to hitch-hike.

I figured being repeatedly raped by some large insane black man who was bitter about apartheid probably was better than the pain I was feeling in my legs.

In the end I got "picked up" (not in a 'cruising' sense) by an old white guy. He made some idle conversation and then said "I'm going to Sandy Bay." It's fun. Why don't you go? I advised him I was meeting someone. He continually went on about what a great place Sandy Bay was and gave me odd looks. There was something I wasn't quite "getting" but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I got to where I was going fine but later I found out Sandy Bay is a nudist beach.

[roadrunner_0]

i just actually cried with laughter, seriously dace, go into stand up, you'd make a fortune

[Rids]

I've done similar, a walk home from Romford. Stopping off via Rainham, and then ****ing Averly to drop off two birds making sure they get home ok. (And hoping to be invited in for a bunk up) Then a walk home... arrived home at about 8am, got straight dressed, and had to head out to college.

[Leshy]

I laughed. It reminded me when I decided to walk home drunk when I couldn't find a bus. It was roughly a 2,5 hour walk, and I was fked when I got there. I shudder to think what a 9 hour walk must have been like.

<3 Dace

[Zaphod I]

Maybe your subconcious self sometimes decide that you have drank too many pints (calories) that night and suddenly you just get overpowering "I feel like walking-g" (Forrest Gump voice)

Some people also walk off their sexual frustrations...

Anyway, thanks for the brightening of the day!

-Zaps

[skiddy]

Absolutely ****ing brilliant.

You good sir are a comical genius.

I've had to close the blinds in my office due to tears with laughter

[Flayer]

I love how you emote the drunkenness in your paragraphs

[Knight Theamion]

yay for rankin

[Dace]

Originally Posted by roadrunner_0

i just actually cried with laughter, seriously dace, go into stand up, you'd make a fortune

And probably get mugged on the way out of the club :(

[Dace]

Originally Posted by Zaphod I

Maybe your subconcious self sometimes decide that you have drank too many pints (calories) that night and suddenly you just get overpowering "I feel like walking-g" (Forrest Gump voice) :)

If that's the case then my subconcious is a bastard.

BTW i'm kinda glad i've made other people happy because of what happened.

At least some good came of it :rolleyes:

[Zaphod I]

"I am Jack's feet..."

-Zaps

[Dace]

Originally Posted by Zaphod I

"I am Jack's feet..."

I get blistered and bruised.

I cause Jack pain.

:)

[roadrunner_0]

Originally Posted by Dace

And probably get mugged on the way out of the club

be sensible, invoice them rather than cash in hand work, there again, you would probably manage to pull a shemale or something, or get stalker groupies

[Dace]

Originally Posted by roadrunner_0

be sensible, invoice them rather than cash in hand work, there again, you would probably manage to pull a shemale or something, or get stalker groupies

Ugly stalker groupies.

Probably male at that.

Having fit women stalker groupie types is something i feel i could learn to deal with.

[roadrunner_0]

your probably right

[JetLinus]

There are too few girls in this story :-/

Originally Posted by Evergreen

I sympathize with dace.

Doing that for ages

[Psi_K]

HAHA, Dace you're the man by far!
Best story I've read in a while (Yes, I know it was real :P)
<3 DACE!

[Steve_G]

get a celly

[Dace]

Originally Posted by Steve_G

get a celly

That wouldn't have solved anything.

In the first story i didn't want to phone the friends of the family 'cause "i'd lost" their daughter.

In the second story

- i was in Italy

- my friends didn't have their phones with them

- who else would i have phoned?

Mobiles are gay anyways :)

[IncubusGod]

Originally Posted by Dace

Mobiles are gay anyways

Why else do they vibrate eh? Its the Velvet Mafia I tell you!

[Dace]

Originally Posted by IncubusGod

Its the Velvet Mafia I tell you!

Who, unlike the original Mafia, dont make you eat your own cock and balls.

Rather they make you "chow down" on theirs.

Because of this the Velvet Mafia is more feared.

[Steve_G]

dont forget a map then next time

[IncubusGod]

Originally Posted by Dace

Who, unlike the original Mafia, dont make you eat your own cock and balls.

Rather they make you "chow down" on theirs.

Because of this the Velvet Mafia is more feared.

You'll wake up with a poodles head in your bed.