Blood on the Sheets
On the 8th of February, I traveled to London to meet up with a bunch of other kids from the great University of Illinois. I had my doubts. Would traveling in a large group of Illinois finest be a good time?
In short, "No, and fuck you for asking".
As far as London goes, it was a rather good experience, and I was able to see a lot, and still have a lot to see, when and if I can make it back. But loud, immature Americans does not define a good time.. ever. And hostel showers: "ew" without slippers.
Plus I'm not much of a sight-seer, I enjoy the act of being.
I believe my most *interesting* tale occurred in Science Museum. I was trying to find the information plaque for the "Jet 1" . Not much thought went into the placement of the vehicle, for the plaque was in this odd little corner, where the car and a pillar met, leaving only about 2 metres of exit space. And in this exit space were two rather "alternatively styled" females. I finish reading the plaque and turn around, and in the way of my exit stand these two women, making out. So there I am between a JET CAR and HOT LESBIANS. So I did what any red-blooded american would do, I quickly left.
I really think that story would have been better had the wall been flowing with beer.
Oh, and on the way home, my friend and I boarded the wrong train due to sheer misinformation and obliviousness, and had to sit in some English train station for four and a half hours.
pfff. London. I met some nice people that I may never see again.
In short, "No, and fuck you for asking".
As far as London goes, it was a rather good experience, and I was able to see a lot, and still have a lot to see, when and if I can make it back. But loud, immature Americans does not define a good time.. ever. And hostel showers: "ew" without slippers.
Plus I'm not much of a sight-seer, I enjoy the act of being.
I believe my most *interesting* tale occurred in Science Museum. I was trying to find the information plaque for the "Jet 1" . Not much thought went into the placement of the vehicle, for the plaque was in this odd little corner, where the car and a pillar met, leaving only about 2 metres of exit space. And in this exit space were two rather "alternatively styled" females. I finish reading the plaque and turn around, and in the way of my exit stand these two women, making out. So there I am between a JET CAR and HOT LESBIANS. So I did what any red-blooded american would do, I quickly left.
I really think that story would have been better had the wall been flowing with beer.
Oh, and on the way home, my friend and I boarded the wrong train due to sheer misinformation and obliviousness, and had to sit in some English train station for four and a half hours.
pfff. London. I met some nice people that I may never see again.