(no subject)
i am in helsinki. i have been playing footbag every single day since I arrived in poland on the 12th. I believe I may be running out of energy, although my game is improving. all my hair is gone, except for a centimeter. I've learned to play the pink panther theme on my little guitar, and I've sold a few albums, and will sell a few more tonight. Last night, I told dirty jokes and smoked a joint (ok, two joints). Now we're watching a video of my friends pretending to kick each other in the head with weird effects. and they're jamming on guitar. now they're kicking each other again.
anyway, I'm having an assload of fun here in Europe. Things have been going pretty seamlessly since I arrived in Poland... getting to Poland from Munich was the only trouble spot. As my plane taxied into the airport in Munich, a flight attendant stepped on before we could deplane. "Is Matt Cross here?" Bad sign. I stepped forward, and she said "your gate has changed and now it's at blahblahblah and they're leaving! run!" So, I started running, not really sure where I had to go. I had just had coffee and head cold medicine and airplane breakfast, and I was feeling a little queasy. I checked the gate on my ticket, and started sprinting there. I was sick with breakfast and nervousness, and found myself running lost through a foreign airport, unable to even find the right branch of the airport for my airline, vomiting into every second garbage can, sweating, and dragging a suitcase behind me whose casters were malfunctioning, causing it to flop over and hit me in the heel and hold me up even more ever twenty meters... I arrived at my gate just when my plane was supposed to leave. "Vrotswahv!?!" (my destination), said I to the attendant at the gate, and she said "No! the gate was changed, it's twenty gates back in the other direction, you ran past it!" So, another vomitous bag-flopping mad dash got me to where I had to be, and down to the bus to the plane in time, where I found myself with a good 10-15 minute wait on my hands. That was the worst part, because I had just rid myself of my breakfast, gotten myself all a-flustered, soaked my shirt in sweat, and it was all unneccessary. It felt like a good adventure, though, and at least it hasn't happened since...
They give you filet mignon in first class and free drinks. In europe, the airplane snacks are much tastier and more plentiful. The language barrier hasn't been much of a problem, as everyone speaks english. Priciness is a bit of a hindrance, but we live cheap, and if I'm lucky, my main man brett will let me pay him for my hotel space once we're back in North America. I think I am in the process of being hired for another footbag gig on the long island area, and I plan on at least 3 or 4 gigs in Rome in August. Life is good. See you all soon. ps: dave wilder, your postcard is in the works. I've written my part, now I just need cool people to write on it.
anyway, I'm having an assload of fun here in Europe. Things have been going pretty seamlessly since I arrived in Poland... getting to Poland from Munich was the only trouble spot. As my plane taxied into the airport in Munich, a flight attendant stepped on before we could deplane. "Is Matt Cross here?" Bad sign. I stepped forward, and she said "your gate has changed and now it's at blahblahblah and they're leaving! run!" So, I started running, not really sure where I had to go. I had just had coffee and head cold medicine and airplane breakfast, and I was feeling a little queasy. I checked the gate on my ticket, and started sprinting there. I was sick with breakfast and nervousness, and found myself running lost through a foreign airport, unable to even find the right branch of the airport for my airline, vomiting into every second garbage can, sweating, and dragging a suitcase behind me whose casters were malfunctioning, causing it to flop over and hit me in the heel and hold me up even more ever twenty meters... I arrived at my gate just when my plane was supposed to leave. "Vrotswahv!?!" (my destination), said I to the attendant at the gate, and she said "No! the gate was changed, it's twenty gates back in the other direction, you ran past it!" So, another vomitous bag-flopping mad dash got me to where I had to be, and down to the bus to the plane in time, where I found myself with a good 10-15 minute wait on my hands. That was the worst part, because I had just rid myself of my breakfast, gotten myself all a-flustered, soaked my shirt in sweat, and it was all unneccessary. It felt like a good adventure, though, and at least it hasn't happened since...
They give you filet mignon in first class and free drinks. In europe, the airplane snacks are much tastier and more plentiful. The language barrier hasn't been much of a problem, as everyone speaks english. Priciness is a bit of a hindrance, but we live cheap, and if I'm lucky, my main man brett will let me pay him for my hotel space once we're back in North America. I think I am in the process of being hired for another footbag gig on the long island area, and I plan on at least 3 or 4 gigs in Rome in August. Life is good. See you all soon. ps: dave wilder, your postcard is in the works. I've written my part, now I just need cool people to write on it.