Let this be a tale of how sometimes journeys need to be survived instead of utterly enjoyed. That's of course if you are unreasonable enough to go with friends. And, of course if you're lucky enough for them to be couples that have just split up. And if you're even more lucky, one of them will happen to be an obsessive-compulsive control-freak crazy genius artist that will make you wanna chew up on your own arm with requests for you to be the buffering substance between her and the ex-girlfriend that she supposedly cannot communicate with (which is why they're souping it up together when you finally give her that call) and meanwhile giving you a hilarious one-girl sit-down comedy show only by verbally picturing a video to the song 'All the single ladies' by Beyonce with Justin Timberlake playing the female lead in sexy leotard... God, this sentence is really making me pant...
Now, to make things even more spicy, throw in a pinch of a 29-year old minx, the ex-girlfriend, who is still undecided on how and what exactly to pack for her trip 7 hours before the flight. And who at the face of 6 hours remaining to take-off has the nerve to state that she does not really want to go and does not want to have anything to do with the above mentioned obsessive-compulsive control-freak crazy genius artist ever again in her life. Oh, did I mentioned that your amount of sleep actually depends on the benevolence of this person to pack up her s%#& and bring her a*% over as arranged so everybody can go to bed quietly and then leave together in the morning... See that happening?
If that's not enough for making your trip a completely unforgettable experience, consider spicing up the stew with another just ex-ed couple which you very nearly almost used to date, being with them every evening on a monday to friday basis (well, relatively, cause mondays and fridays are not what they used to be) and off-ing out there with them whenever there happens to be a regular weekend that can be spent away. Now, in this perfect, little, almost family-like portrait, where you have the part of the self-proclaimed infant with ambiguos sex, imagine going away with recently divorced mommy and daddy and mind the... well, not exactly the gap, but the flourishing Oedipus complex that is just about to take place in its full...
Now, if you have all the necessary components all packed and ready, then off you go. Out and in there! Loud and proud and pretty damn well wondering how exactly you are going to survive this. So, final review of what is now a seemingly pretty insufficient hand luggage - ear plugs - check; vitamins - check; tranquilizers - check; no sharp objects, no containers with substances under pressure, no harmful liquids - check; last drops of sanity... (following is a complete search of your poor soul cavities and finally...) - check!
So, at last, you find yourself armed with everything you need and ready to meet what has been the subject of long night and daydreaming and indulge yourself into an atmposhere of exploration, adventure and discovery!
And now: To sleep... perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil...
Bugger off, Hamlet! Let me put my troubled mind to a three 'n a half hour rest before plunging into the unknown!
But alas, sleep has yet decided not to be and there you find yourself tossing and turning into a bed you have long been given the notice for, ticking away the minutes with that monstrous plastic time-killer on the wall. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock... This is practically hammering down the last nails in your coffin as you start imagining the first day of your trip ruined by insomnia, fatigue and complete lack of interest towards anything due to the above two. Finally, if you are a will-driven individual, you may find it in your unlimited abilites to get up and put the damn thing down, draining it of its devilish sanity-depriving source of power. And now... it's oh, so quiet, it's oh, so still. You're all alone, and so peacuful until... CLING-BANG-KABOOM-DING-DONG goes the passing by 126 year old tramcar in the background of your I'm-really-trying-hard-to-get-at-least-some-sleep self-awareness...
All attempts in vain, 3:50 am and off goes Beirut needling through your head the incredibe fact that, you see, It's been a long time, long time now...
The rest is some kind of blurry mixture containing dishwashing at around 4:10 am and some weary cab driver until first final destination is reached at around 5... All drama put on hold, check-in, boarding (unallowed liquids along) and 3 hours of solitude and silence, each of the amazing 5 seated safely away from others. No plane crash, no uncontrollable flight sickness, no eyes scracthed out. So far, so good!
Set a foot in London once and it will all be awesomeness. At least it should....
Now, to make things even more spicy, throw in a pinch of a 29-year old minx, the ex-girlfriend, who is still undecided on how and what exactly to pack for her trip 7 hours before the flight. And who at the face of 6 hours remaining to take-off has the nerve to state that she does not really want to go and does not want to have anything to do with the above mentioned obsessive-compulsive control-freak crazy genius artist ever again in her life. Oh, did I mentioned that your amount of sleep actually depends on the benevolence of this person to pack up her s%#& and bring her a*% over as arranged so everybody can go to bed quietly and then leave together in the morning... See that happening?
If that's not enough for making your trip a completely unforgettable experience, consider spicing up the stew with another just ex-ed couple which you very nearly almost used to date, being with them every evening on a monday to friday basis (well, relatively, cause mondays and fridays are not what they used to be) and off-ing out there with them whenever there happens to be a regular weekend that can be spent away. Now, in this perfect, little, almost family-like portrait, where you have the part of the self-proclaimed infant with ambiguos sex, imagine going away with recently divorced mommy and daddy and mind the... well, not exactly the gap, but the flourishing Oedipus complex that is just about to take place in its full...
Now, if you have all the necessary components all packed and ready, then off you go. Out and in there! Loud and proud and pretty damn well wondering how exactly you are going to survive this. So, final review of what is now a seemingly pretty insufficient hand luggage - ear plugs - check; vitamins - check; tranquilizers - check; no sharp objects, no containers with substances under pressure, no harmful liquids - check; last drops of sanity... (following is a complete search of your poor soul cavities and finally...) - check!
So, at last, you find yourself armed with everything you need and ready to meet what has been the subject of long night and daydreaming and indulge yourself into an atmposhere of exploration, adventure and discovery!
And now: To sleep... perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil...
Bugger off, Hamlet! Let me put my troubled mind to a three 'n a half hour rest before plunging into the unknown!
But alas, sleep has yet decided not to be and there you find yourself tossing and turning into a bed you have long been given the notice for, ticking away the minutes with that monstrous plastic time-killer on the wall. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock... This is practically hammering down the last nails in your coffin as you start imagining the first day of your trip ruined by insomnia, fatigue and complete lack of interest towards anything due to the above two. Finally, if you are a will-driven individual, you may find it in your unlimited abilites to get up and put the damn thing down, draining it of its devilish sanity-depriving source of power. And now... it's oh, so quiet, it's oh, so still. You're all alone, and so peacuful until... CLING-BANG-KABOOM-DING-DONG goes the passing by 126 year old tramcar in the background of your I'm-really-trying-hard-to-get-at-least-some-sleep self-awareness...
All attempts in vain, 3:50 am and off goes Beirut needling through your head the incredibe fact that, you see, It's been a long time, long time now...
The rest is some kind of blurry mixture containing dishwashing at around 4:10 am and some weary cab driver until first final destination is reached at around 5... All drama put on hold, check-in, boarding (unallowed liquids along) and 3 hours of solitude and silence, each of the amazing 5 seated safely away from others. No plane crash, no uncontrollable flight sickness, no eyes scracthed out. So far, so good!
Set a foot in London once and it will all be awesomeness. At least it should....
P.S: To be contuninued... or maybe not...
NB! With all written here, no hard feelings have ever been meant. I still love you all.
