Reactions to a train from the hell

I was in Nis (or something like that) It's in Serbia. Well, the truth is I was in Skopje and I wanted to go to Greece, but my stupid friend and I took wrong the train. Two or more hours after the departure, when the Serbian police took our passports we started to doubt we were going to Greece. I approached two girls and asked:

Me: Is this train going to Greece?

Girl (shocked): This goes to Serbia!!

Me: Oops, I wanted to go to Greece

Girl (worried): Oh my God! You should talk to the ticket inspector or something, this goes to Nis!

Me: Bah, don't worry, Greece can wait... How is Nis like?

The girl didn't respond, her friend just stared smiling because she didn't understand English or whatever language we were raping in that cabin. I didn't go to talk to the ticket inspector, he came to talk with me to charge us more money. He was an ass, the idiot saw our tickets only a couple minutes after we boarded, he didn't notice we were in the wrong train, but then he was charging us for our mistake.

Anyways, we spent some time in Nis, pretty nice place by the way. Then we took a train to Bar, that's in Montenegro, Adriatic Sea shore, pretty close to Italy, we were going there to take a boat to Bari. The train lasts almost twuenty hours to make that journey. We did not know that.

We boarded at night, the day had been very sunny and nice, but suddenly a strong storm appeared and got us wet. It was rainning a lot and the water came into the train because some windows were broken, we found ourselves a cabin with fine windows and prepared for the trip. Suddenly I saw a red laser around me and then I heard a couple of shoots, when I thought I would be dead, I noticed a little boy with a fake gun, I ignored him until I saw he was with his big boobs sister, then of course I pretended to be the classic kind guy who loves children.

That always works, his sister was mine at the second minute. Then a shitty ticket inspector came to our cabin and kicked us out, he said we had reservations and our cabin was one a couple yards away, a cabin with a broken window by the way. We argued for awhile but the guy didn't speak English, so we took advantage of that by describing him with a lot of not kind adjetivals. But we ended near a broken window which he tried to fix with some lame rope, that guy must be the McGiver from Nis or something.

Big boobs (I totally forgot her name, I'm awful with people names, don't take this big boobs as a demeaning but as complementary thing please) and his little annoying brother were with their parents, and it seemed like she didn't have space in their cabin, the place was crowded so I invited her to ours, her parents allowed his brother to come for awhile, and that sucked. We were four people with six sits, my friend was trying to sleep, the girl was into me and her brother's time in our cabin was expiring, so at that moment I thought that trip was great. Then a 25 year old male gipsy arrived to our cabin, then the train left.

We chit-chated for more than an hour, then the girl's mother came to took his kid to her cabin and put him to sleep. One obstacle was over, only one to go, so we waited like another hour for the annoying gipsy (not a racist thing, he was annoying no matter his skin, and disturbing too) to fall sleep, then we could hook up. The problem of making out with a girl who has her family in the next cabin is that you don't have complete freedom, any thought of getting laid in that train blowed up when I saw how she went off of me everytime someone passed by the aisle near our cabin. When I saw how dirty, wet and disgusting were the bathrooms I just realised I was wasting my time at all.

Even though it was being a nice trip, those little travelling platonic relationships are cool, the best I would say. We fell sleep and then when I woke up, the comfortable train I thought I was in had became in hell. Our cabin was eventually full of teenagers, some of them really drunk and noisy, eight people for six sits. Big boobs was there, talking to them, I think she was twenty, so she went along with the seventeen years old people, maybe they were twenty too, I couldn't tell, but they were retarded and very noisy.

I wanted to sleep and couldn't, so I kicked my friend and woke him up, I didn't want to go through that alone. Big boobs, who was not as cute as I remembered from the night before, introduced me to the new people but nobody there spoke English. Finally my friend opened his eyes.

Friend: Who the fuck are these noisy people?

Me: I don't know man, I think all of them are going to the beach or something, there are like a hundred teenagers in this train, at least fifty in the aisle smoking and getting drunk

Friend: Are we there yet?

Big boobs: We are almost there, only eight hours for my stop and like eleven for yours

We didn't know that trip was going to be so long, we didn't have any food, we ate all the night before, even offered some to the girl and the gipsy. For a really long time we tried to sleep and couldn't, we witnessed how teenagers argued, fought, made peace, fought again, got drunk, sober, drunk again... And overall how they yelled, all the time, very high levels there. Picture ten hours like that, sleepy, with teenagers all over and not knowing where you are and how much left it is. The view was amazing, the train went across beautiful mountains and lakes, but I couldn't enjoy it at all. By the way, the girl's brother woke up and started pointing me with his red laser and shooting at me with his fake gun all the time, this time no games with him, I sent him to fuck himself very quickly. Did I mention the bathrooms were dirty, wet and not working? I needed to crap (as always) My mp3's battery went off so I didn't have music either.

Every couple of minutes some police for some differents countries came and took all our passports for a lot of time, that train was hell. We just hanged in there really pissed while insulting and complaining, but only big boobs could understand us, due to that, we started insulting just her and she leftt the cabin, last time I saw her. I behaved like an ass. Maybe that wasn't the best reaction. These are other reactions to a train from hell:

1/ Get big boobs pregnant (I think she was anyway, those boobs were unreal)

2/ Get drunk with the teens until I passed out (Then drink more until I passed away)

3/ Being racist with the gipsy and start an argument about why and why not they should have rights (That would be a monologue though)

4/ Take the boy's gun and smash it into pieces (Or just smash the boy into pieces)

5/ Take advantage of the broken window and jump out (I tried, but the stupid ticket revisor made a really good work fixing it)

6/ Get involve in the teenager's fights (Yeah, sure, get my ass kicked was the only thing left for me that day)

7/ Destroy my passport and get arrested when the police come to check them (Spent the rest of my life in a Balkan's jail would've been better than in that train)

8/ Take a dump in the cabin and spread out the teenagers (They were so drunk they didn't notice it, just my friend and I)

9/ Take a mop and clean the train's bathrooms so I can use them (Since big boobs didn't want to... There started our relationship crisis I guess)

10/ Don't breathe until everything just goes away (The gipsy noticed my suicidal attemp and saved my life, what a retarded idiot!)

Reactions to Sofia's airport

I took the plane in Madrid and headed to Skopje, but I had a scale in Bulgary's capital: Sofia. The plane was not full, but there was a lot of people, everything seemed normal. I took off and found myself in a small airport, really small, it was like a mall, and all the people left the mall at some point.

I had like nine hours ahead until my plane takeoff, and everybody in that airport disapeared, literally. I thought I must take a cab and go around Sofia for awhile, but as soon as I step foot outside the airport all the taxi drivers approached me thirsty of my money and I decided that Sofia could wait, I just would go to look for a bar and get myself a little drunk.

I boarded nine hours before my plane's departure and found out that the terminal of departures was even emptier than the part of the airport with the check in's desks and the disgusting taxi drivers in the door.

I found some kind of bar, it was like a beach's refreshment stall. There was a waitress not atractive, a waiter playing with a computer and a fifty year old male customer drinking a beer and using his laptop. I ordered a big beer and tried to get drunk quickly so time would past faster and the waitress would become prettier.

But when my beer was yet in its half, my plan changed. I gorgeous girl came to the bar, ordered some suspicious sandwhich and sat right by my side. That kind of thinks usually don't happen to me, for some reason I'm always surrounded by ugly people. Both of us knew we were condemned to become friends, so gane her simpathies wasn't a hard thing to do. I offered to buy her a drink, getting drunk in an empty airport seemed a better idea with a gorgeous girl than alone, but she didn't want alcohol, despite she had eleven hours ahead until her flight. The truth is she was amazing, she had this impressive Lebanon beauty, mixed with a Parisian look, spoke English, French, Arabic and she was only eighteen.

We talked to the fifty year old, I tried to begin a conversation before but he didn't pay me any atention, but when the hot chick was by my side I suddenly became the dude's best friend or something. He wouldn't stop talking, he was the couch of Netherland's national team of some sport I didn't know, the girl neither. After half an hour or so he left, I don't know where, but he kissed the girl's hand recalling her how pretty she was and gave me a look that said: I wish I was you lucky bastard!

And then we spent nine hours together in an empty airport, just me, her, a few waiters working in this almost bars they had, there were three, all of them looking exactly the same, and even more disturbing, the waiters and waitress looked the same as well, that airport was like a source of parallel dimensions and I was trapped in the midle. We boarded and unboarded like five times in the nine hours, the people in the "security control" (Mcdonald's have more security than that airport) were very amused by us going through the metal detector several times in an afternoon.

There were some Arabics around the airport and sometimes they came to talk and find an explanation about what the hell was going on in that empty airport, but we didn't have it. The funny thing is that I'm getting a lot of this lately, once in Austria I took a train with a friend and we were the only passengers, every single sit was empty, then I found myself in an empty airport for nine hours in Sofia and once in Skopje I went to a mall to watch Robin Hood and when the movie ended there was nobody in the mall, just the ones who were watching the movie. Is people avoiding me? I think they do.

Maybe the reason is that I always put ten stupid options at the end of everything I say or write, so, just to keep people away from me I will keep doing it, these are some reactions to Sofia's airport:

1/ Scream until someone came (Didn't work)

2/ Sit down and watch Mtv's videoclips (Just could endure two minutes)

3/ Beg the Holland national coach to teach me everything about his sport and make me the best player in its history (Whatever it was)

4/ Get married with the Lebanon girl (Have kids and raise them in that airport)

5/ Start a revollution in Bulgary beginning by take control of their capital's airport (Piece of cake)

6/ Get drunk and imagine that I'm with one of the prettiest women I've ever met (Done!)

7/ Ask for a eight hours in a lifetime job (That's more than you can take here in Spain)

8/ Sleep and make time go by faster (With all those Arabics around me?)

9/ Let a taxi driver rip me off and go to see Sofia (Just to check out if there was people in the streets or it was like the airport)

10/ Go every hour to take a dump to the bathroom (I don't know what happens to me in the airports man)

Reactions to taking a photo to a demanding couple

I miss the past. Earth is turning on too fast. Do you remember ten years ago when people just go out with a wallet and keys? Now everything has changed, today we are some kind of videogame’s character going around full of items. I don’t know in America, but here in Spain most of guys are using purses (They call them big wallets, but believe me, they are purses)

I go around and all I see is people manipulating their cell phones, I go to a concert and all I see is people taping the concert. You are already watching it! Why the fuck do you need to tape it? Enjoy it bitch! (If you can enjoy Spanish singers…) I think people don’t live anymore, they tape life to watch it at home, to show it. They need to show, we have to prove everything in this edge:

- Have you been in the concert last night?

- Yes, I have

- If that’s true prove it! Show me you were there! Where is your video mother fucking liar?!

I watch on TV a journalist with his camera and his microphone in the street and all I see is people behind him taping him… Why do you guys do that? They have a better camera, a pro camera. If you want the video watch it in your TV, don’t tape his back with your disgusting cheap mobile.

When I was a boy if I watched myself in a TV I would freak out. That was cool, if I went to a mall and there were those cameras taping everything connected to a monitor I would spend the whole day putting faces and being on air… But now, for today kids being on TV is as normal as breathing. Everything is taped, their whole life is taped, being on TV is not a big deal, you don’t see kids putting faces to mall’s cameras anymore. And that is very sad.

And finally, approaching to today’s point. Do you remember when couples used to ask you to take them a photo, you take the photo, they say thank you, you say you are welcome, they say goodbye, and you leave? That was life uh? Now this is completely impossible, everybody must be an almost professional photographer. I swear when I had to take a photo to someone I always did my best. But since they were those cameras you had to wait a couple days to see your photos whether I did it well or wrong it didn’t matter… How I miss those cameras!

Now when someone asks you to take a photo is like a surprise exam. You know you have to do it well, because that someone is going to check in his camera your work, and more than this: He is going to mark you, you are going to pass or fail. Indifference is not an option.

So, there I was, in a pretty touristic Galician place, beautiful Celts historical remains. A thirty year old couple approached me and asked me if I could take them a photo, I said yes. They hugged, showed me their love stills alive and I took the photo. Then I gave them back their digital camera and thought I was done. I was mistaken. This is what happened:

I give them back the camera and start walking away. The probably not good fucked girlfriend sees my picture in her camera. Her face says she doesn’t like it. She shows it to her probably tiny dick boyfriend and his face says he doesn’t like it. He calls me. I turn:

Boyfriend: Excuse me sir… Could you take us another picture please? This one seems to be a little bit moved…

Me: Oh, I’m sorry… Thought it was okay… Sure I can, give it to me

Girlfriend: Thank you a lot… It was pretty moved though

I take the camera. They pose showing me their love again. I put effort on my work: I assure myself they are in the centre of the picture, that behind them is the Celt’s stuff, that some sky is in the target too… In resume, I take and awesome photo. I give the camera back to the man this time. He sees the picture. His face says he doesn’t know what to think. He shows his girlfriend. Her face says she doesn’t like it.

Girlfriend: This one is moved as well honey…

Me: Is it?

Boyfriend: Yeah man, sorry… You have to be careful, this camera is very sensitive, try again please

Me: Ok, give it to me

I take the camera. I put a lot of effort this time. More effort than I put in anything in my whole life. Couple in the middle, hugged as always, smiling as always, sky on top, Celt’s stuff behind, even I recall a fucking bird around. I take one of the best pictures ever taken. The boyfriend comes to me as soon as I finished and he takes the camera off my hands. He sees the picture. His face is unreadable. He shows his girlfriend. Her face says she is pissed.

Girlfriend: Is this a joke?

Me: Excuse me?

Girlfriend: This picture is awful, just awful… Honey, are you seeing this? It’s awful…

Me: Are you sure? It seemed perfectly fine to me

Boyfriend: Bub, this picture is fucked up… Have a look

He gives me the camera back. I see the picture I just took. It looks like a perfectly normal picture, not moved, centered, both are with a nice gesture, it is great photo.

Me: What seems to be the problem? I find this picture really cool

Girlfriend laughs cynically being insulted. She looks to her boyfriend looking for male protection.

Boyfriend: Take us another one and let’s get over it already

Me: Okay…

Once again I put a lot of effort in the thing. I take care of every little detail and then I push the button. I look the picture carefully before give the camera back. The photo is good. I give the camera to the girlfriend expecting a thank you and a good bye. She sees the picture with an angry look. She looks at me very mad.

Girlfriend: You are enjoying this aren’t you? Is this how you have fun around this place? Honey! Look at this crap!

The boyfriend sees the picture. He and I know the photo is perfectly fine but since he is a short dick piece of shit without personality he pretends he is mad at me.

Boyfriend: Is that difficult for you to take a properly picture pal? Are you seven years old?

Me: I’m sorry I’m not a professional photographer… I think all the pictures I took are perfectly fine though

Girlfriend: Your pictures are shit and you know it (And yes, here the girlfriend crossed the line that divides me in a good and a bad person)

Me: Are they shit uh?

Girlfriend: Worst piece of shit pictures I’ve ever seen

Me: Okay… Brad and Angie… I did my best, but maybe the material I’m working with is weak Didn’t you think in that possibility? That maybe the pictures are awful because you guys are an ugly couple, a really ugly couple… And of course, it’s very difficult to take a good picture to a pregnant woman…

Girlfriend: I am not… How dare are you scumbag?

Me: I’m sorry you are a two. One point for each breast, that’s the only thing that saves you. For the rest, you have a really fat ass, huge ass, fat tummy, you are actually fatty everywhere… Your face is ugly, big nose, bad made up, your eyebrows are gone Why fatties like you always take away the eyebrows? Do you really think that makes you look thinner? You are wrong! (She wasn’t that fat, she actually was a five or a six, the classic woman a little bit overweighed with great teats and a cute face, but you know, I was pissed)

The girlfriend looks to her boyfriend expecting a defense. The boyfriend tries to defend his girlfriend. I get ready to run because the boyfriend can easily beat me.

Boyfriend: You are a piece of shit, even more than your fucking pictures! Do you have mirrors at home? Because you are the ugliest bastard here

Me: Does it mean I have a chance with your girl then? Because she is clearly into ugly dudes… Your nose is huge and disgusting, I can see hairs coming out of it and that repulses me. You are bald, with huge eyebrows… Did she lend you hers or what?

The boyfriend gets aggressive and his girlfriend holds him.

Girlfriend: Let’s go honey, he doesn’t worth our time, he worth a shit.

They leave and I go back to the people I was with. They ask me where I was. I tell them my story. They laugh at me and make fun of me. I think I reacted like and idiot. These are better reactions to taking a photo to an exigent couple:

1/ Be patient and keep taking them photos until they were satisfied (Let’s be honest, my photos stunk)

2/ Explain to them I’m doing my best and that they can not be so demanding with random photographers like myself (What was all that shit about? What did they expect? A fucking Marie Claire cover?)

3/ Ask to another person to take them the bloody photo (Don’t let him go until I found the photo really good taken)

4/ Approach the woman while she was mad, give her a really wet kiss and run away (I liked her)

5/Take just photos of the woman’s breast (That’s pretty much what I did)

6/ Run away with their camera and never go back (I need to practise my photo’s skills)

7/ Smash the camera into pieces in front of their demanding faces (Complain about the low quality of their disgusting fucking camera)

8/ Through the camera to their faces causing them bleeding wounds (Their huge noses would have stopped the hit without problems. There are a lot of couples with huge noses don’t you think? I just leave it there)

9/ Take photos of my cock while they were looking to the other way (Then they will know what a good picture is)

10/ Take a Celtic’s sword and decapitate them. Then set their heads and their bodies according to my taste and take a great professional photo (Would have been funny putting her head over his body and vice versa)

Reactions to a mendicant boy necking my friend

There is a place like Galicia 40 years ago, sort of. Galicia plus high heels and internet and minus religion; and lots of meat instead of seafood. It is called Kosovo. It is the youngest country in the world. Galicia is the oldest. (If you say so…)

Anyway, my much more handsome alter ego (according to him) was in Kosovo one day with a couple of other guys. Just knocking back some beers at a cafe and discussing the surrounding women in English under the assumption that they didn’t understand a word they were saying. A woman next to my alter ego with silky legs and sumptuous boobs, was blowing bubbles and eating an ice cam cone. She had a short skirt and a child with her as well as a couple of other ugly children not worth mentioning.

On the walk over my alter ego had seen a street mother admonishing her child for ticking his hands down his pants in public, way, way down (You should’ve taken photos of that, dude)

Anyway, it while they were drinking, that woman at the next table beautiful face was eating ice cream and blowing bubbles, but the ice cream was for her tongue and the bubbles were to entertain the child. My alter ego commented, “wow is she really blowing bubbles, is this a porno waiting to happen?” He continued staring at her, imagining some action when a boy approached the table. My alter ego recognized the boy, but not his hands, those had been concealed.

Across the pedestrian walkway was a mother, or some sort of creature. The kind that covers her head with a scarf she was, maybe a hijab but I don’t know the weird names those people have for handkerchiefs. Maybe a gypsy. She chose her marks and pointed to people sitting at the café. She had a son, maybe grandson, or just some poor boy she had captured, maybe five or six. The boy would go to those people and beg for spare change. Well he wouldn’t just beg, he would make moves on you. He would hug or even try to kiss you.

My alter ego’s friend, a tall, blonde metrosexual, got the worst of it. The boy, blondish and dirt covered, snuck up behind his chair and necked his nape. Meaning, he totally kissed his neck. We just hoped he would stop putting moves on us, so we froze hoping that if we didn’t move, he couldn’t see us. The waiters caught sight of him, the were familiar with him. His creature mom camped out in front of that café everyday, sending in her son/pawn in to beg. One of the waiters was spinning some sort of short half-whip/half-chain menacingly, as if asking his well-to-do guests for some spare change were a great offense.

One waiter managed to pinch the boy to get him to scramble away. Its always the peons that get the punishment. Upon returning to his creature mother, he was slapped. He was punished by those who thought him guilty and by the manipulator who made the other think he was guilty, kind of like in real-life government and business. His mother wouldn’t let him give up and once the waiters had come back inside in search of food and drinks for their masters, the creature mother sent the boy back out.

After the boy hugged and kissed my alter ego’s companions, he approached my alter ego. (My alter ego is just a good friend of mine, he likes to be referred as alter ego, not just in this blog but in real life as well, he clearly has self-confident issues) My alter ego quickly pulled out change and said “I’ll pay you not to touch me.” Of course, the boy didn’t speak any English and thought he was being asked for hugs and promptly embraced my alter-ego. My alter ego nudged the boy away while pinching a 50-cent piece as close to the edge as possible, so that when the boy grabbed it there wouldn’t be any skin contact between fingers, hopefully.

The woman next door disgusted looked over and commented in perfect English, “Maybe if he blew sexy bubbles you wouldn’t recoil from that poor boy.” She then called the waiter, paid him, and left. My alter ego watched the trim of her skirt dance around her lower thighs feeling the disdain from her gaze even as her back was turned. “He had dirty hands!” He shouted internally.

Then my alter ego thought about it and came out with better reactions than the one he chose. These are some reactions to a dirt-faced little boy hugging you and kissing your neck for change: (And yes, I’m not the only writer in this pity blog)

1/ Give him food (That would infuriate his creature mom who does not eat food but uses the money to buy whatever material she feeds off of)

2/ Go to one of the small stands on the street and purchase a toy puppy for him (Wouldn’t work. His mom would have eaten it)

3/ Join the waiters with little whips (Then form a posse, and push every beggar out of the streets and in to the hillsides)

4/ Recruit my own child and direct him to go beg from the creature mom (If she decided to use his child for protection by any chance, command my child to fight him in a death child’s battle, Pokémon’s way)

5/ Give the boy everything I have, be merciful and let him go on his way (No way that just encourages them)

6/ Adopt him and steal the creature’s livelihood (That’s sort of the story of my life)

7/ Become a pimp and take the boy to places where people would love to give him change for kisses (My Spanish cousin would have been the first in the line)

8/ Approach the creature mom, tear off her hijab and reveal her to the world like a disguised Men in Black alien (Then fuck her hard)

9/ Work with the government to start a center for street children (boooooooring)

10/ Use my hand cuffs to take the mendicant boy to my house and lock him in the basement with the other mendicants (The inconvenient of Kosovo is that is a really poor place and I’ll need a bigger basement pretty soon)

Reactions to my first reader´s comment

After trying for awhile, I found a way to bring traffic to my blog, one person in concrete… This guy read one of my stories and blacked out. He ended up speechless, delighted. Here is his comment:

This is so unfunny. Hey bub don't quick you day job. You are not a writer. Your presence on dontevenreply.com is like a tick on an elephant's penis! Thanks for wasting my time you self indulgent boring asshole.

Well, when the first comment to your blog is this, you don’t get to think it will be a success (not a surprise for me) what you get to think is that you suck. And let’s be honest: This blog sucks. Of course I’m not trying to compete with blogs like dontevenreply.com (it seems like a bad idea put some comments in there leaving my blog’s link to bring here people, they are reading a really funny thing and feel betrayed and pissed when they come and read this one) or Tucker Max or whatever American who happens to write well. If my goal was having success with a blog I probably would write it in Spanish like the scripts and books that I write.

But let’s take a time out here and analyze carefully what this guy, named Anonymous, felt when he wrote this comment, let’s analyze slowly why he used these exactly words and no others. Let’s try to discover the motivations he had to write exactly what he wrote. Let’s start by dividing his comment in parts:

This is so unfunny. Strong start, he clearly wanted to show his discomfort with me and my blog by pointing since the very beginning that he didn’t like it at all. He could say: This is not very funny. But due to his anger against me he preferred to use the word “so” indicating a lot of something, and “unfunny” indicating the opposite of what I try this blog to be (Without much success obviously)

Hey bub don't quick you day job. Okay, I don’t know what “bub” is, and I think I prefer it that way. And I don’t exactly know what he meant with “quick you day job” I think he was looking for something more like: “Do not quit your day job” This second phrase is pretty good advice. He understood that he needed to give me a tip to go along with my life and I found it very interesting (I don’t have a day job though, unless going to school parking lots with my binoculars is considered a day job)

You are not a writer. He continued with an intelligent affirmation. He probably thought I was an American, then he read my sad English and got mad at me, not leaving him another chance but to remind me I am not a writer. When everybody knows real writers are those who leave comments in blogs using the name Anonymous. We all have a lot to learn from this dude

Your presence on dontevenreply.com is like a tick on an elephant's penis! Well, we can find a lot of anger in this one; he even took the effort of putting an exclamation point. He is clearly pissed off, he probably hit his table with his hand after cleaning it or not when he finished his daily internet porn tour. Describing me as a tick on an elephant’s penis is something I get a lot I must confess. But in this particular situation I think he is right, my blog can’t be compared at the dontevenreply.com one, in fact, if you are here and you didn’t know about that other blog, just go there and laugh because it is hilarious.

Thanks for wasting my time you self indulgent boring asshole. As a real American, even though he was really angry, he can not help it and he had to be polite at the end, giving me his thanks. Or maybe he is not being polite, maybe this particular person can not get dates (I’ve been there buddy) and for him even though a “self indulgent boring asshole” has wasted his time, he is thankful because his life is so boring and disgraceful that the time seems to not pass by for him (Once again… I’ve been there buddy)

And this is pretty much it; he couldn’t say more with less. I hope this analysis explained more or less what this guy felt after reading my blog.

I referred the whole time to this person as a male, because it is clearly a male. Women don’t release their anger in boring and stupid blogs like this one. They are women, no matter how ugly they are, they always can get a date (Not with you Mr. Anonymous, don’t get anxious, you’ll have to wait your chance, hang in there with the porn until it arrives)

If you think about it carefully though, this is an amazing comment. What would this guy say if he had to pay for reading my blog? He would probably “quick his day job” to look for me and… and… well, I don’t know how Mr. Anonymous work. But he wouldn’t make me anything nice I can assure that. Anyways, I want to thanks this guy, for take the time of reading one of my posts and overall, comment on it. Of course his comment didn’t pass unnoticed for me. These are some reactions to my first reader’s comment:

1/ Get affected by his comment and kill myself dying as a self indulgent boring asshole (Whenever I die I will die as a self indulgent boring asshole anyway)

2/ Stop writing this blog because I’m not a writer and try to work in a Burger King (They were looking for more qualified people, maybe I’ll have better luck in McDonalds)

3/ Change the subject of this blog and instead of writing about stupid things and adding some dumb different options at the end, write about the greatness of birds and cats and how they can even behave as human beings sometimes (Birds&catsareawesomeandilovethemmorethanilovepeople.blogspot.com)

4/ Cry because people don’t like my blog (Some stupid sand just got into my eye you fucking asshole!)

5/ Look for Mr. Anonymous and ask him for more advice, not for the blog but for life (The one about jerking off with the left hand I already know it bub)

6/ Fire my American cousin and look for a better funnier writer (Are you available Mr. Anonymous?)

7/ Don’t do anything, just keep masturbating while picturing Mr. Anonymous writing his comment very sweaty and angry (I like really fat people yum yum)

8/ Erase Mr. Anonymous’ comment (And miss the only funny thing in this blog?)

9/ Don’t write more posts until Mr. Anonymous apologizes to me (Even I know that I’m the one who should apologize to him, this blog really sucks)

10/ Unbury my nine, go to the States and shoot everybody until I feel like I have killed Mr. Anonymous (Mmmm, just like in college days…)

Reactions to an old woman illness in a plane

It happened on a long flight, Philadelphia-Madrid I think. Philadelphia, great city, better butter… So, travelling by plane is always the same, you wait in the airport checking out the pretty girls around hoping they get on your plane. Once you know which girls are flying with you, it is just a matter of time before you have to wait again, hoping they sit close to you.

I learned my lesson and I don’t talk or flirt with anybody in the airport. I think it is so frustrating wasting your energy in playing the good and funny guy when then your seat is in the tale section and hers is in the front (Although flirting for me is just staring while touching myself using my pockets to hide and usually girls don’t find me funny or good)

Airports and planes are always full of hot women, everybody knows that, I have travelled maybe more than the average, and I have to say I have never sat near a hot woman on a plane (Well… once I sat by a pretty Canadian but you know, Canadians don’t count) I usually end up with old people or married couples with crying children. In my first trip to NY I sat by a really old woman and her crying little dog in a basket

I hate the window, when I have a window seat I try trading it, of course every time I succeed. Windows seats on planes are like candy at your grandma’s house, you know they are there but they are not always offered to you, and getting them is a great joy. Don’t get me wrong, I like looking out the window, it’s awesome. But between enjoying the beauty of the amazing blue sky and having a free way to the bathroom… I’m sticking with the bathroom. Yes, the toilet beats the sky to me.

In that flight from Philadelphia to Madrid, I was suffering from a crazy allergy, I had more mucus than ever. Without exaggerating I had to blow my nose every five minutes because I couldn’t breathe, the mucus was so stuck in my nose I had to blow really hard. And in Spain blowing your nose is a normal thing to do, but in the States blowing your nose noisily is the grossest thing you can do. So every moment I had to go to the bathroom, and there, in that private spot we all like to use, was where I blew my nose noisily (It was bleeding too, just to picturing it better)

By my side I had an old couple, they were French, they lived in Spain and they spoke English, Spanish and French. They were good people of course, everybody at the planes are good people though, it is like being up in the air makes us better people. I don’t remember what we talked about and I wouldn’t tell if I did.

I was waiting for the little TV to being turned on just thinking how come air hostess are so ugly now a days, going to the bathroom to blow my nose and reading a funny book that made me laugh out loud a couple times making me feel weird. Nobody laughs on planes I guess, when the little TV was turned on I understood the reason why (US Airways needs someone to restock their broadcastings desperately)

When I finished the funny book (I hope they serve beer in hell), watched the only good movie offered (Invention of lying) and the only Curb Your Enthusiasm episode I found, that was it. I didn’t have anything else to do. Most of the people were sleeping, I tried and failed, my nose was giving me a rough time and at one point I just wanted to die. I searched the little TV guide: Sex in the city (The movie) Sex in the city (The TV show, four or five episodes) Sex in the city (The soundtrack) Sex in the city (Behind the scenes) I really started thinking US Airways and Sex in the city were related on this fucking plane.

So, that was my situation: I had finished my book, I had watched the only two things I liked in the little TV, my nose was a mess, mucus and blood making it impossible for me to breathe, I had an old couple sleeping by my side, a family with crying kids were in front of me, some people sleeping were at my back, and of course, in the other row of seats, but near me, were that classic couple living their passionate love in the plane’s darkness. Madrid was two or three hours away yet, my stinky cheap MP3 had run out of battery… It was a tough trip. Travelling alone is like masturbating, you get to the point you wanted, but it isn’t as pleasant as it can be with company.

When I thought anything could be worse, the old woman by my side woke up and started complaining about her tummy. She woke up her husband and told him she was feeling home sick. I got up and let them go to the restroom. After a couple minutes they arrived and she was looking awful, she had diarrhea and nauseas, the stewardess came and started worrying about her situation. She was really angry, she blamed the plane food

She had to wait and endure her pain until the flight was over. So, from this point on, I was in the same situation as I was before, but now with an old woman farting, retching and telling me how awful the plane’s food is. It’s pretty uncomfortable sitting with an old woman suffering and talking about how awful everything is while you almost can’t breathe and have to go to the bathroom every moment while trying to not be rude.

My reaction was to be polite. Pretending not being smelling the flatulence and the vomit, pretending that I was concerned about the old woman’s illness, pretending to be a good person. That’s what I did, and I don’t feel good about it, these are other reactions to an old woman illness on a plane:

1/ Lock myself in the bathroom and make it my own private spot on the plane until we arrived to Madrid ( It almost was, when you go every ten minutes to the bathroom, that bathroom and the aisle behind became in your own home)

2/ Start screaming and cause total chaos (Causing chaos on a plain is one of the things I’ve always dreamed with)

3/ Hug the old lady tight and call her grandma a couple times (At least it would’ve been funny see her reaction to that)

4/ Watch Sex and the city (No, I still prefer the angry, smelly, ill and tedious old lady)

5/ Run away from her, instead of listening to and smelling her, look for another seat where I could stare at the infinity until the flight was over (I live in the country, smelling feces makes me feel at home. I actually enjoyed that)

6/ Instead of listening to her, start telling her all about my life, being the tedious person instead of the patient and kind one (My life story would’ve killed her)

7/ Approach every single passenger and explain to them that I wasn’t on cocaine, that I had an allergy (When you go every ten minutes to the bathroom and you have a runny nose which by the way is bleeding, people start giving you looks)

8/ Take advantage of the situation and shit my pants as if nothing had happened (Yeah, sure… Like if I was the only one who would love to be able to shit on a plane’s seat with nobody noticing it)

9/ Surreptitiously take the seat belt and start hanging her (No lady! I don’t give a fuck if the pasta on the plane is low quality!)

10/ Give her a lap dance (Sadly, another young man beat me to it)

Reactions to a hot girl feeding water to a donkey

A few years ago a friend and I decided to descent a river in an inflatable craft. It was a peaceful river without current. We just thought it would be fun paddling for awhile. Our problem began when we told a cousin that we were descending the river and he wanted joining in. He told us he had his own inflatable craft and he knew the river so we agreed to his request of coming with us. He told us that he was bringing his brother-in-law too and we thought it was okay.

We organized the whole thing and we ended in front of the river with two inflatable crafts. They parked their car in the point where they decided the descent would end and we brought ours to the point they decided the descent would start. We met my cousin’s brother-in-law, he was a peculiar human being with an absentminded attitude, he lived in Holland and he was just visiting his sister or something like that.

The first thing that made us thinking that the descent would be a fiasco was this conversation: (The conversation occurred in Galician but I just translate it for you)

Me: So… Where are your oars dudes?

Cousin: We don’t have oars man

Friend: What?

Cousin: We just have the craft

Me: This river doesn’t have any current How do you expect to descend it?

Cousin: I don’t know man…

Friend: We can’t descend a river with two inflatable crafts and just two oars

Cousin: Calm down guys… I brought a rope

Me: I don’t think hanging yourself is the best option, not a bad one, just not the best right now…

Cousin: We can tie the crafts and take turns for paddling, you paddle for awhile then we get the oars and we paddle…It can be fun

Me: Descend the river tied up?

Cousin: Why not?

Friend: We can try it…

Cousin: Okay dudes… You guys can start going to the shore, we’ll be right there

Me: Where the hell are you going?

Cousin: We need cigarettes man

Me: Cigarettes?

My cousin told us how to get to the shore while they were going to get their fucking cigarettes. It wasn’t a good explanation and we weren’t good understandable people so we had a rough time finding the shore entry. The river is surrounded by forest so it wasn’t easy to walk through carrying with the inflatable raft. We got a little lost and we ended inside a private country estate. Right there we witnessed the most shocking thing in our whole wide lives.

We were in the country, Galician country, there are only old farmers and farm animals in there. We were in a remote lost house inside the forest near a river. In the estate were an old man working his land and near him the hottest girl we’ve ever seen feeding water to a disgusting donkey. She was dressed with bad clothes, she was dirty with mud and she was in a stinky farm but she was gorgeous. We shocked, we stared speechless for awhile, and then the old man saw us and talked to us.

He asked what were we doing in his propriety and we answered him that we were looking for a comfortable shore to get into the river, he told us how to get to one but we were just too impressed with that girl’s beauty. I can’t even describe her, she was twenty or so, thin, really cute face, amazing body… What the fuck was she doing there feeding water to a filthy donkey? (I think that kind of hot girls shouldn’t be aloud to live in isolated farms required by law. The police should take her and drop her in New York, Paris, Rome or London)

We made it to the river, the shore was awful. It was full of undergrowth and we had a rough time getting the craft inside the water and ourselves inside the raft. Once we accomplished that attempt we had to be just floating while waiting for my cousin and his relative. In that moment was when we were able to talk about what we had just seen in that farm a few minutes before for the first time. We couldn’t believe it, we just asked each other one time and another:

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

Me: Did you see her?

Friend: How can be that possible?

That conversation was much longer than you can imagine. Then my cousin and his relative appeared in their oarless craft mad at us because they said we were disappeared. It seemed like there were a comfortable and peaceful place to get in the river almost a hundred yards before we did. Then they tied up the craft to ours and we started paddling. It was annoying to paddle for them, but since we agreed to take turns we could handle it. My friend and I didn’t know the river and didn’t know how much we would be descending either.

My cousin and his in-law lied down while they smoked one joint each other and drunk beer. The rope we used to tie up the crafts was like six or seven yards long so my friend and I didn’t realize that we were their slaves at the beginning. We paddled for twenty or more minutes before we started asking them to switch places, but it wasn’t easy putting their craft in front of ours, while we were trying a way’s division of the river appeared, my cousin told us to lead them for one of the ways, but we couldn’t direct the craft and we headed to the other way, the wrong one.

Then my fucking cousin untied the rope and since they were a few yards farther back they could make it to the good way paddling with their hands. While we were going on different directions they laughed and cheered because of their exploit. The way my friend and I where in was too stopped and full of rocks and undergrowth, we burst our craft and we had to paddle very hard. A few minutes later, maybe fifteen minutes the river got better and it converged again. Then we saw them farther ahead from us.

We tried to reach them to give them the oars but we witnessed unbelieving how they were getting out of the river in a little park wit cars and motorbikes parked. We paddled there and we asked what the fuck was going on. My cousin told me that was the end of our descent, that he had parked his car in that place, that we lost the best part of the river, the only one where we wouldn’t have to paddle. All what we did was getting out of the river, waiting for our craft gone flat and get the fuck out of there.

We were mad with my cousin and his freaking lazy brother-in-law. They fucked us well, but if we think about it carefully we would realize that everything was our fault. We didn’t react well when we saw the hottest girl ever, we didn’t even talk to her. Our minds went blank, we reacted badly and our day went awful because of that. These are better reactions to a hot girl feeding water to a donkey:

1/ Talk to her you fucking asshole! (It was too unexpected to do so)

2/ Give her my phone number and my email (Explain to her what a phone number and an email is)

3/ Pet her donkey and gain her sympathies, then if she was able to, start a conversation (It will always be a mystery to me)

4/ Ask her to lead us to the river’s shore, once there ask her to come with us in the inflatable raft, once in the inflatable raft ask her to marry me (My dream has always been getting married with an hermit like myself)

5/ Go to the hospital and get treated my hallucination’s problems (Okay, maybe there wasn’t a girl feeding that donkey but I swear that goblin forced me to burn that bakery)

6/ Tell them that we came from the future, that human race was wiped out in there and our mission was to impregnate every woman in their period (Period of time not menstruation period… or both, whatever)

7/ Buy her to her owner (I don’t think farmer’s girls are too expensive)

8/ Kidnap her (She wouldn’t care I’m sure)

9/ Get involved in a death fight with my friend where the winner would take the girl and the looser the old man farmer (I maybe let my friend win)

10/ Beg to the old man to make me his slave too (We could live a tragic passionate slave’s love story)

Reactions to a father who wants to nail his daughter

It happened in Vienna, I was with a friend and we went in to an ice cream shop, it was small and there weren’t any customers. We sat and ordered ice creams cones. There was a married couple, probably in their fifties, running the place and waiting for costumers to show up and attend them. She was pretty normal, little bit fat but a normal fifty year old woman, she looked European, later we found out she was Austrian (wasn’t a surprise since we were in Austria). Her husband was the weird one, he had Arabic features, only one eyebrow, a huge one, he was bald, short, ugly… later we found out he was from Egypt.

Since we were the only customers there we started talking. It was the common conversation you receive when you are far away of your home:

Wife: Where are you from, Italy or Spain?

Me: New Caledonia

Friend: Yeah, from Nouméa, the capital…

Wife: Oh where is that exactly?

Me: I think that is pretty clear madam…

Friend: I kind of feel insulted here…

Wife: Oh yes, “New Culidonya” yes, sorry… What are you doing here in Vienna?

Me: We are just looking for lands to conquest…

Friend: “New Culindonya” needs to be expanded…

Wife: Really?

Me: I’m just kidding, we are actually on our honey moon… (Shocking gesture on the wife’s face and then a shocking gesture on the husband’s face after his wife translated for him)

Friend: Yes, our wives are in the hotel room cleaning right now

Me: Later they will take care of the corridors…

Wife: So when are you guys leaving?

Me: Probably when we finish our ice creams…

Friend: Not totally bad ice cream by the way…

More or less that was how the conversation went, then someone entered the store. I even recall a slow motion plane and music when she appeared. At that moment, the prettiest woman I had ever seen was the one who was feeding water to a donkey (We´ll get in to that pretty soon) but this one beat her. I remember her very well, she was a mix between Arabic and European beauty. Dark hair and skin, she was white but with dark skin, she had brown clear eyes, almost green. She was wearing very casual clothes, the kind of clothes that an eight-year-old wears but she was almost twenty. Her body was perfect and her face was the living image of an angel. Pure beauty.

We were seated in a small table and the married couple was on their feet talking with us. When she arrived an intense silence ocurred, my friend and I stared at her impressed with her uncommon beauty. She walked in smiling and sat at a table near ours. While she was walking to the table, the husband checked her out with a nasty look, he stared at her ass with a desiring look. Then he looked at us making that usual men’s gesture when a hot woman is around that says: “Did you see her? I wanna fuck every hole on her” We responded with the other classic gesture that says: “I am impressed with her beauty too, yum yum”

She had a backpack, she took out some pencils and a notebook. The wife sat by her side and they started talking in German. They seemed to be discussing something about how to write a word. My friend and I thought that maybe that most beautiful woman we have ever seen was working in that store and was in charge of decoration or something (She was the best possible decoration as a matter of fact)

Seeing how good relationship the wife had with the prettiest girl in history, we started regretting our pricklike behaviour with the store owners. We found out that they were arguing about how the word España (Spain) has to be written. We walked in to that store because we were out of money, we didn’t have a place to be and we had to kill time before attending a soccer game between Spain and Germany later that afternoon. We had to stop being assholes for awhile and start talking to them properly.

We explained our jokes about our origin and told them the truth that we were from Spain, then the wife who was the only one who could speak English told us about her life, her husband’s life and yes… her daughter’s life. We couldn’t believe that glorious girl was their daughter. Even now I can’t believe that such a beauty came out of that one eyebrow man’s dick and that fat woman’s vagina. But over everything I can’t believe how someone could give such a disgusting nasty look to his own daughter.

The girl didn’t speak English and was too shy to even try (She was perfect). We very kindly ordered more ice creams, we were willing to wait around until she learn our language or we learned German if it was required. The truth is that we became completely different people when that girl walked in, that’s what people who will go to hell do, modify their behaviour depending on the appearance of the people who they are with.

We very kindly explained them how writing “¡Viva España!” (“Hurray Spain!” I guess it would be translated, they had problems with Spanish letter: ñ) The soccer euro cup final was about to be played in their town, a lot of Spaniards were around and they thought it would be good idea to put a little sign in their shop window to encourage Spaniards to come in to their store (A picture of their daughter would’ve been more than enough)

We pretended to be funny and healthy people who were just spending more than an hour eating fifty-cent ice creams because we “really” liked them and we just happened to want more and more. Sadly the match time approached at one point and we had to leave, we made the prettiest girl ever laugh a few times, but she just spoke German and it is very hard hitting on a girl while her mother is translating, so we left with nothing but the memory of having met a really unique woman.

After leaving we started worrying thinking about that father’s look to his daughter. We witnessed how Spain beat German in that game, but in our minds there was only room for what had happened in that ice cream shop. We felt guilty leaving her unprotected with that unibrowed father and his nasty’s looks. We saw the danger but we just left and that was wrong. These are better reactions to a father who wants to nail his daughter:

1/ Calling the police would have been the best thing to do (That’s right)

2/ Calling the police would have been the second best thing to do (That’s truth)

3/ Calling the police would have being the third best thing to do (Enough asshole! Make up something else…)

4/ Explain to her mother the father’s look we caught and leave with our minds relieved (She probably would’ve called the police because it was her first, second and third best option)

5/ Once the police had arrived explain to them what we witnessed and ask them to take measurements (After seeing the girl, policemen would have understood the poor man situation and they would have just eaten some ice cream while trying to make advances with her )

6/ Forget that the translator was her mother and hit on her (I’m so stupid. If I had done that I could’ve lived with my conscience clear so far)

7/ Memorize the store’s location. Come back home and dedicate my whole life to learning German to be able to talk to her without translator. Go back to the store and sweet-talk her (Wouldn’t work, I’m not funny or interesting in Spanish, even less in English What makes me think I would be in German?)

8/ Give her nasty looks too, she probably grew up with that and she relates that with masculinity (We probably don’t know it but we gave her very nasty looks already)

9/ Give nasty looks to her father (I have a unibrow fetish)

10/ Move to Vienna and stalk her (It got bored after a few months)

Reactions to a younger girl´s interest in a train

I was on a train around Europe with a friend and an Italian buddy of ours. We were tired and sleepy, when the team you were supporting wins its first title in fifty years you don’t get to sleep enough. The Eurocup had just finished, Spain had won it and our trip had ended. We had to get back to Spain, but we were broke in Austria using a soon expired Eurail passes. They are those all-you-can travel train tickets that people backpack across Europe with. Of course we didn’t have a seat (People with Eurail passes are victims of hate around those trains, watch out if you are willing to go)

So we were sitting on the floor near a bathroom, trying to get through the trip as well as we could. I really wanted to sleep but I couldn’t, I can in a train’s seat but I can’t on the floor while I have to constantly move out of the way for people with seats to get to the bathroom. My goal on that train was as simple as this: Get a fucking seat and sleep!

In the car in front of us was an excursion of a camp or something like that. It was full of teens, a group of five or six were staring at us and waving the whole time. I’m pretty ugly but sometimes I find girls who think I look exactly like the love of their lives. I guess some of them were on that train that day.

After waving, staring, screaming and going to the bathroom every five minutes, the interaction began. They were a group of five or six girls with no more than fourteen years. I was 21, my friend was 24 and I don’t have a clue about the Italian’s age, but he was older than me for sure. Those groups of teens are better organized than people think. They have a hierarchy, a strong leader, solids ranks, predetermined objectives, a well-studied way of working and the most important thing, they think they are unstoppable and they are probably right.

They sent two soldiers at the beginning to recognize the target. The soldiers were a fatty outgoing girl and a shyer regular one. They asked the typical teen questions: What are your names? Where are you from? Do you speak German? And English? What are you doing here? Can we stay here with you and talk? Can our friends come too? And we answered the typical idiot’s answers:

Me: - Prince Second
Friend: - Prince Third…
The Italian: - Francesco

Me: - I was born somewhere in the Sea while my mother was running away from the Spanish inquisition accused of witchcraft in an inflatable raft
Friend: We are twins…
The Italian: - I’m from Milano (Yes, the Italian didn’t go along with our humour very well)

Me: - Only in the privacy of my home
Friend: - I’m the one who he talks to…
Italian: - No, German is very hard

Me: - I tried once, not my thing
Friend: - I’m from NY but we don’t use it anymore back there
Italian: We are speaking English right now!

Me: - We went to the grocery and then we took a bus, later a train…
Friend: -Where are we?
Italian: - I’m travelling with some friends I’ll meet them in Innsbruck

Me: Do you have seats?
Friend: We don’t have much conversation, we can stare and smile though
Italian: Sure, Do you want to sit? (He was such a gentleman offering them a spot on the floor, Italians are way ahead from the rest of men)

Me: Did you mean older sisters?
Friend: Mums?
Italian: Yes, tell your friends they can come

They listened to the Italian and went to get the rest of the group, their mission was accomplished. We maintained a teen’s conversation for a while, it was like when you are twelve or thirteen and you talk with girls for the first times, but we were in our twenties. I can’t remember all of them; just the outgoing fatty, a regular one and a shy pretty one (Yes…) The thing that I do remember is that most of them were pretty daring.

From the beginning it was pretty clear that they were interested in us, they begged to take photos with us, they were excited and nervous and I have to say that we were enjoying the attention. After exploring the territory for a while they went into action. They started with the hook up questions:

Fatty: - Do you guys have a girlfriend?

Me: - Yeah, she is actually the train’s driver
Friend: - She is gone…death, but I didn’t do it… well yes, but I didn’t want to… she almost begged for it
Italian: - We broke up earlier this summer, it was painful after three years but we still… bla bla bla (Are you fucking serious?)

Fatty: - Are you guys looking for one?

Me: - Yes, she actually disappeared two years ago Would you take a look to her picture?
Friend: - Yes, my blood thirst isn’t quenched yet
Italian: - I don’t think I’m ready to get involved in another relationship (Dude… you need one with a shrink).

Fatty: - Do you think my friend is cute? (an ugly one).

Me: - Mmm…
Friend: - Mmmm…
Italian: - Mmmmm…

Fatty: - Do you think my other friend is cute? (the shy and pretty one).

Me: - Mmm…
Friend: - Mmmm…
Italian: - Yes, I bet a lot of guys are after her

Fatty: - Do you think I am cute?

Me: - Mmm… Look how beautiful is that lake!
Friend: - Awesome lake!
Italian: - What lake? (There isn’t lake buddy…)

Fatty: - Do you like anyone of us?

Me: - I think that you are not the worst human beings I have talked with
Friend: - That’s because I’m the worst human being he has talked with
Italian: - I would have to try you first je je (…)

While we were talking to them the rest of the more and less thirty teens in the camp were staring at us, proud of their daring girls making that situation ever weirder. Then my problem started. There was that girl, the pretty and shy, she was really cute, blond, nice smile, lovely, really beautiful… I would have fallen in love with her in the first second if I was fourteen but I was twenty-one. Her friends made her sit right on my side, forcing her to talk to me, but she was too shy and she blushed. I guess I got the pretty one of the group for once… (Score!)

For a while the conversation was only focused in hook up us together, and that was uncomfortable. I was single, the girl was pretty… But she was fourteen! It wasn’t a sex thing, she wouldn’t blow me or fuck me in that train, I wouldn’t try either of course (I swear) It was more like a platonic thing, fourteen years old love, hold hands, two kisses, nervous smiles… I needed to get out of there.

My friend helped me out, I didn’t want her to feel rejected or hurt or whatever, she was a sweet kind shy girl. So we told them we were too old for them, that we didn’t know Austria’s laws but that we thought that was a crime, and that we agreed on that. Honestly I always had a weird thing with younger girls, I don’t know why, but I always tried to hook up with older or same age girls, I would have felt really bad with a girl two years younger; I can’t imagine with an eight years younger.

With the help of my friend and after going to the bathroom, didn’t know how to lock the door. Pissing sitting down because trains move and I don’t like piss in my shoes. Witnessing how an old woman opened the door and everybody around the bathroom watched me pissing sitting down in a toilet. I could get out that situation. We convinced them that I was very tired and needed a sit, they offered their seats and I went to sit down while they kept talking to my friend and the Italian guy, who by the way acted like he was jealous instead of helping me out to get through that situation (We lost contact with him pretty soon)

Once on the seat trying to sleep, everybody of that camp excursion was staring at me. I couldn’t sleep at all, even though I had accomplished my train’s goal, I was nervous, the whole thing with the younger girl had disconcerted me. I kept thinking about how pretty she was, how she looked almost seventeen, how I look almost seventeen too, how I had taken advantage of a fourteen sweet shy girl and her friends to get a seat on the train, how I became a selfish person. I started feeling bad, I thought that my reaction wasn’t the most appropriate one. These are some better reactions to a younger girl’s interest in a train:

1/ Speak with honesty to the girl, tell her that she is pretty and that she must be worth a lot, but due to the difference of our ages our love is impossible (Of course, teenagers always run away from impossible loves)

2/ Tell her that I like her, give her a kiss. Get off on the next station pretending to be crying, waving from the outside to her while my friends console me (I have always wanted to wave to someone in a train station while crying)

3/ Exchange our personal information. Mail her and phone her everyday until she turns eighteen and then start a platonic relationship (She would wait for sure…)

4/ Once I was pissing sitting down exposed to everybody, call her and make her watch the spectacle (Her love would have ended there)

5/ Beg for her mother’s number (She was a beauty)

6/ Bring her to Spain. Isolate her of the rest of the world. Educate her by myself modelling her personality to be my perfect wife (I’d try to make her happy too)

7/ Ask the Italian to fuck her and leave me alone (He was seriously and dangerously interested)

8/ Make out with her and feel like a boy again (My life would have been very different then)

9/ Assume the state of a pederast and molest her (That’s what my teachers did with me)

10/ Take her to my house, lock her in the basement for years, have kids with her and then have kids with the kids (That’s pretty trendy in Austria)

Reactions to a call of nature in Salzburg

Once, a friend and I spent a month backpacking by train around Europe. Our plan was to attend every match that Spain played on the Eurocup and to travel around in between the match days. We learned something: Pissing and shitting is expensive in Europe, in the US and Spain you can do it in several places, for free. In the middle of Europe you have to pay, and shitting is more expensive than pissing (I guess that makes sense)

One night we arrived in Salzburg, we checked in to a cheap hotel and went out to have some drinks. The city was great and the pub’s zone wasn’t bad, we went to one of the few Irish pubs and started drinking beer (Madly expensive by the way).

We were just sitting at the bar drinking and checking the people out, my friend was writing ideas on the coasters, I realized he must have had a lot of ideas when I saw that he was stealing coasters all over the place. It was crowded, there were majority dudes but there were some girls too, as usual the prettiest was the waitress. She looked somewhat interested in us, we probably were the only foreigners there that night.

When you spend weeks travelling, sleeping on trains, showering and going to the bathroom in train’s stations (paying for it) and eating just Kebaps, your body starts to be unpredictable. That night we paid for a hotel, I could have a shower and use a private toilet, but even though I tried, I couldn’t shit, I thought I just didn’t have to go and forgot about it.

But while sitting in that pub waiting to make a move on the waitress and start a conversation and probably an unhappy marriage, my stomach started talking, you know how it goes, you drink something cold, it wakes up your tummy and suddenly you really have to shit. That’s truly annoying, you try to convince yourself you can hold on, that it will disappear after a few minutes, but you’re wrong, every second is worse than the previous.

I went to the restroom, it was the classic pub bathroom; a broken sink, a disgusting chamberpot and a stinky toilet without paper behind a broken door full of names written on it. I wasn’t drunk at all, if I was I’d maybe shit there anyway, but when you are completely sober even though you are in a pub you don’t want to take a shit in front of other people without paper to wipe your ass. So I decided to ask my friend for the hotel’s key and go there to unload.

The only problem was that I was in an absolutely unknown city, I didn´t know anybody and I was broke, I had spent my money in that hotel that I was trying to find. I recalled more than twenty minutes of walking from the hotel to the pub’s zone but didn’t exactly recall the direction, plus I could hardly walk, the call of nature was really strong. I wandered around the city’s drunken youths pretending I was ok and just going somewhere I knew. It’s funny, I know that it’s impossible, but when you are suffering an unexpected call of nature, you think everybody around notices it, you think they are laughing at you and making fun of your misery (They probably were laughing at me and making fun of one of my others miseries though)

After fifteen or twenty minutes walking around trying to find something I could remember, a house, a store, something that made me find the direction to my hotel without success. I had to make another decision, I was going to shit in my pants if I didn’t change my strategy. I assumed I wasn’t going to find my hotel and just started to look for some other hotel, hostel, whorehouse or whatever place with a light inside.

I found a hotel, it was early, not 1:00 am yet I guess, a man was at the front desk. I asked him if I could use a bathroom. He asked me if I was a guest in his hotel. I said no. He said I couldn’t use his bathroom. I was suffering and didn’t have strength enough to get involved in an argument (Besides my English was even worse than now and his was awful too, of course nobody speaks Spanish around there)

I kept walking the deserted streets cursing that guy. On top of my needs to shit, piss needs were added. It came as a surprise, I didn’t pay attention to the piss before because of the shit, but before I knew it, the piss was almost getting out. There wasn’t a chance, I wasn’t going to make it. I had to piss on the street. When I was about to do it, a group of mature people appeared and I had to wait and act like if I was studying the street’s walls and bin containers.

When they left I could piss, but it wasn’t a relief, in fact pissing made my needs to shit bigger. Of course, nobody was in the street, but when you take out your dick a lot of people show up. I tried to go through that with the most dignity possible, the people passed by me and some of them said things in German and laughed. I pretended to be so focused on my activity that I couldn’t even notice their presence.

I ended and still walking hoping my hotel just appeared in front of me. When I was walking I saw a party in a house, there were topless women in the window screaming, smoking and laughing. Imagine how bad I was that I just kept walking looking for my hotel.

I was swearing a lot. I started shivering. I really needed to shit. My clock’s countdown was ending. I have to clarify that of course it wasn’t a regular crap, I had a diarrhea one. I can hold a regular shit. For God sakes! I’m not fifteen anymore…

I tried in another place, I can’t remember what exactly it was, hotel, restaurant, can’t remember. I begged for a bathroom but in Europe they don’t respect nature, their bathrooms are holy for them, not everybody can use them. I asked for help to find my hotel, I told them I was lost, they weren’t concern. They asked me about the name of my hotel, but I didn’t know it. I just left downcast.

After an hour searching for a bathroom, everything started to become really confused. I started to talk to my self out loud convincing my self I wouldn’t shit on myself while lost in an unknown city. I got in to a discussion with a bum who spoke Spanish with a Basque accent. I shared my misery with a really drunk lonely villager. A bouncer denied me entry to his whorehouse for using his bathroom, he spoke English or Spanish, I don’t remember, he told me they didn’t have a bathroom in there (that explains a lot of things doesn’t it?)

Don’t ask how or when, but at some point I recognized a monument on a roundabout, followed my instinct and found my hotel. As soon as I got in the bathroom’s room I started to shit like if I was a fucking fountain. I stayed there sitting on the toilet for a long time, not just shitting or wiping, but resting and calming down too. When I was done I washed my hands, my face and changed all my clothes. I didn’t shit on myself, but I sweated so much my clothes were sticking my skin.

It took me a lot of time to find the pub’s area after I left the hotel, but walking after being relieved is easier. When I got into the Irish pub it was almost empty, sleepy drunk people or drunk couples without a hotel room were the only things I could find there, the usual leftovers of that kind of place. I looked for my friend and he was almost asleep in a corner watching a pre-recorded broadcast soccer game that we had just watched in the stadium a few days before. The waitress wasn’t there anymore, the party was completely over. My night in Salzburg sucked because I didn’t know how to react to a call of nature. Now I have thought about it and I have found some better reactions than the one I chose that night:

1/ Go to the pub’s bathroom. Take the shit, wipe my ass with my hand. Wash my hand without water or soap because there wasn’t any. Get out of the bathroom. Shake everybody’s hand on my way back to the bar (Do you think I’d be the first one?)

2/ Confess my problem to the waitress and ask for her help (That would have turned out in love for sure)

3/ Get drunk quickly. Shit in my pants. Pretend that it never happened and continue with the party (I would be famous in Salzburg now)

4/ Shit in my pants. Blame my friend. Accuse him of the smell (I think he shit in his pants anyway)

5/ Jerk off (Why not? It’s always pleasant)

6/ Get naked pretending to be very drunk. Dive in to Salzburg’s river and take a submarine shit (Those are the best ones)

7/ Hold it until I died (I’d have a funny grave at least)

8/ Look for a church and shit inside it (Jesus would have understood it)

9/ Once I found the first hotel where they rejected me, take down my pants and shit on the hall’s floor (I would have shit all over myself too because I don’t know how to shit without a toilet but it would have been worth it anyway)

10/ Get in the house with the topless women and begin a shit, piss, puke dirty sex party (They would have agreed to that request for sure).