Wednesday, September 7, 2011

A Tale of Glasgow

Hello Steph-town 5000 and three of the best followers anyone could ask for if they so chose to ask (ß grammar? Sp? Fuck it? Yeah). So I made it to Glasgow and it’s eh … AMAZING-uh.

Short summary of the trip across the pond: Woke up at 4 am (yes, the world does exist at that time, however, it’s a much shittier version), drove to the airport with the parents, walked through Sacramento International with a 9162472836 lb carry-on (or 178247512467 kg), flew to Philadelphia, became terrified of surroundings, got on plane, sat next to two 12-year old boys, couldn’t find Tylenol PM, realized row behind me was drunk/Scottish, attempted to sleep on the tray table, got smashed when bitch-duck in front of me reclined her seat, ingested airplane food, got off airplane, grabbed the rest of my 868236481064612064102641469187249012641764011246 lb luggage, went downstairs, ordered green tea, went to pay, got confused, threw random assortment of money at cashier, got bitch-slapped with cashier’s eyes, felt like a bitch, smiled, sat down, saw another American student, attached myself to her hip, met other students, took the shuttle to student apartments, and there I was … GLASGOW.

I finally made it. I felt like someone had drug my body through hell’s steaming black gates a few times but what-the-fuck-ever, I was in SCOTLAND. As my two new American friends Katie, Gina and I walked into the main office to check in, the woman informed us that our rooms might not be ready until 4 pm (which was about 8 hours in the future). As I gazed into her Scottish eyes with a look that said, “BITCH, THAT ROOM BEST BE READY BITCH,” she looked at my comrades and said, “Oh well you two girls can move into your rooms but YOU (me) can’t until four.” And I could be mistaken, but I believe the message she was sending with her eyeballs was, “BITCH DON’T BE THINKING YOU ALL IMPORTANT BECAUSE YOU TIRED AND AMERICAN BITCH.” I could be wrong.

So anyways, we all made the executive decision to drop off our crap in their rooms and go exploring. AND EXPLORE WE DID. It was amazing, everything I had dreamed of. Also, I still felt like I was dreaming because of the amount of time my body had been awake. BUT WHATEVER. CHECK THIS CRAP OUT:



Just great. Anyways, I am beginning to figure out their barbaric culturally fascinating ways. Although I have to be honest, I went to a pub for the first time last night, watched the Scotland v. Lithuania game, had my first Guinness, had the next four Guinness’ paid for (not typical), and could maybe understand every tenth word the guy was saying. I’ll get there though, I’ll get there.

OH and fun fact: the reason the UK drives on the left side of the road is because in medieval times they needed their right hand free so they could sword fight passersby … I swear to GOD if I saw someone driving a Toyota just taking out oncoming cars with a sword I would just love Scotland so much more …

Anyways, it’s off to another pub tonight. I’ll let you know how that goes.



1 comment:

  1. Every Scotsman I've ever talked to I felt like I needed a translator. Here's to hoping that ample amounts of Guinness help you to gain a slurring grip on the native tongue.