OK so the past couple of weeks have been…unusual. I’ve taken the liberty of leaving out the finer details and omitting some names and places to protect certain individuals who will remain shadowy players in this debauchery. Actually it’s not all that bad really, apart from walking in on friends to see his naked arse pounding away at her spread-eagled frame, getting thrown out of a hostel for calling a Nazi staff member ‘bitchy’, smashing my laptop screen again, a birthday-come-Christmas market ‘pub’ crawl that just ended up in a pub, and potentially meeting the woman of my dreams. Or maybe several of them. In short, it is time to leave Vienna.
I’ve been frequenting The Travel Shack, which is something of a notorious travelers bar lying a mere stones throw from my hostel. It’s dingy, it’s crazy, it has a pool table and the bar staff are a riot. None of this pretentious pish. After some regular wild nights, two hundred yards up the road is the aptly named ‘Mozart’s’, which continues to serve beer and good food until silly o’clock. It is here I’ve learned the oh-so-valuable life lesson of flicking the cap of a Jager bottle off your nose after you’ve downed it. Vital knowledge indeed.
On one such occasion I’ve been particularly hammered and decided it was a good idea to go home with the only option left. Not so much beer goggles as beer blindness. Back to the hostel we stumble, only as we’re lying down and I’m stark naked (easy to do when removing the kilt) she’s suddenly started to “feel uncomfortable” and she’s bolted out the door. I’m actually not too bothered, as it’s a bullet dodged if you ask me, and I reach for my laptop to watch some quality lesbian mud wrestling. Only thing is, she’s sat down right on top of it and smashed the screen. Raging isn’t the word.
Sticking around to await the arrival of the replacement part has had its merits. I’ve met some pretty cool folk in this city and had some memorable times. Shouts out to friends and staff at the bar, two sweet-as-a-nut Aussie girls (I know right?!) and a fellow cynical, bitter and misanthropic travel writer. None more so however than a certain young lady who shall remain anonymous, who I ran into shortly before the end of the world. If that had happened come Friday morning, I probably would have died a very happy man. Now unfortunately I cannot go into detail regarding the nature of what has happened over the past few days, but for the first time in my life I’m going to let my head rule my heart. I will be once again standing, thumb out, by the side of a road on Christmas Eve in an attempt to make it to Budapest. I’ll wear a Santa hat to maximise my chances of goodwill towards men. Of course when I’m starring in my own Jihad video in a basement in the Middle East I might have certain regrets, but for now let’s just say cheerio, and thank you for making me believe I could actually get a 10.
It’s the end of the world as we know it…come back to mine…?
OK so the past couple of weeks have been…unusual. I’ve taken the liberty of leaving out the finer details and omitting some names and places to protect certain individuals who will remain shadowy players in this debauchery. Actually it’s not all that bad really, apart from walking in on friends to see his naked arse pounding away at her spread-eagled frame, getting thrown out of a hostel for calling a Nazi staff member ‘bitchy’, smashing my laptop screen again, a birthday-come-Christmas market ‘pub’ crawl that just ended up in a pub, and potentially meeting the woman of my dreams. Or maybe several of them. In short, it is time to leave Vienna.
I’ve been frequenting The Travel Shack, which is something of a notorious travelers bar lying a mere stones throw from my hostel. It’s dingy, it’s crazy, it has a pool table and the bar staff are a riot. None of this pretentious pish. After some regular wild nights, two hundred yards up the road is the aptly named ‘Mozart’s’, which continues to serve beer and good food until silly o’clock. It is here I’ve learned the oh-so-valuable life lesson of flicking the cap of a Jager bottle off your nose after you’ve downed it. Vital knowledge indeed.
On one such occasion I’ve been particularly hammered and decided it was a good idea to go home with the only option left. Not so much beer goggles as beer blindness. Back to the hostel we stumble, only as we’re lying down and I’m stark naked (easy to do when removing the kilt) she’s suddenly started to “feel uncomfortable” and she’s bolted out the door. I’m actually not too bothered, as it’s a bullet dodged if you ask me, and I reach for my laptop to watch some quality lesbian mud wrestling. Only thing is, she’s sat down right on top of it and smashed the screen. Raging isn’t the word.
Sticking around to await the arrival of the replacement part has had its merits. I’ve met some pretty cool folk in this city and had some memorable times. Shouts out to friends and staff at the bar, two sweet-as-a-nut Aussie girls (I know right?!) and a fellow cynical, bitter and misanthropic travel writer. None more so however than a certain young lady who shall remain anonymous, who I ran into shortly before the end of the world. If that had happened come Friday morning, I probably would have died a very happy man. Now unfortunately I cannot go into detail regarding the nature of what has happened over the past few days, but for the first time in my life I’m going to let my head rule my heart. I will be once again standing, thumb out, by the side of a road on Christmas Eve in an attempt to make it to Budapest. I’ll wear a Santa hat to maximise my chances of goodwill towards men. Of course when I’m starring in my own Jihad video in a basement in the Middle East I might have certain regrets, but for now let’s just say cheerio, and thank you for making me believe I could actually get a 10.