Sunday, January 25, 2015 continued….
We arrive in Sydney for our last night of trip at about 8:15pm. After having to ditch our first cab driver who neither spoke English nor knew how to use a navigation system, we finally make it to our shitty airport hotel. We drop our bags off, throw on some jorts and grab a cab to the city. No time to waste. We head into the city to Stina’s friend Will’s place for some pre-drinking. Our cab driver was fucking NUTS. By nuts I mean he drove exactly like me. Now I am starting to understand why people are afraid to get in a car with me. We did a pre-game straight out of 2006.
About 8-10 shots each (who’s counting?) with one can of sprite between the two of us. Efficiency at its finest. All that was missing was tally marks on our wrists. Then we were off to a club. Now, I’m not typically a fan of clubs, but a big sweaty mess of hot Aussie men does slightly appeal to me. If you can believe it. Once we get there drunky Stina realizes she has no I.D. And no I.D. means no entrance, despite our persuasive American powers. So I text my cousin and we head off to whatever seedy bar he was in where we are assured no I.D. is needed.
A few hours and a few drinking games at the bar later, everyone is shit faced. Like, super drunk. And wants to go home. Or has been kicked out of the bar for reasons unknown (my cousin, Ben). Fuck that. It’s my last night and I am in it to win it. I just need a wing man. Enter: my other cousin CJ! What are the odds? A totally random run-in.
This kid walks in with his current flavor of the month, a hot little blonde number, and I know I am saved! People to play with! So Stina heads home and I head out with CJ and his lady friend to another bar. Where we remain until 6:30am. Now, I would love to give you a little more color on the night, but it’s all a bit fuzzy.
Suffice to stay I was bouncing off the walls doing that thing where I think I am everyone’s best friend. If ya know what I mean. At 6:30am my alarm goes off. Not my wake up alarm. My “time to the leave the bar and go to the airport” alarm. So I bid everyone at the bar farewell, grab a cab, stop at the hotel to grab my bag and Stina, and we are off to the airport.
Monday, January 26, 2015 – Happy Australia Day!
And so begins the most painful flight home that has ever been. Ok, thats a lie. That time I was escorted off the plane by homeland security was way more painful. We’ll call this the most exhausting plane ride ever.
I don’t actually remember checking in or going through security, as I think I was sleep walking through it. I slept the entire flight to Auckland, suffered through a 4 hour layover and them somehow survived the 11 hour flight back to L.A.
Monday, January 26, 2015 (Our second Monday)
Back in the United States of I Hate My Fucking Life. Awesome. Customs was a hot mess. I forgot how much I fucking hate the U.S. Actually, I did not forget. But here I am. My dad picks me up at the airport – he greets me as if I’ve just been gone for a long weekend, not two months. Missed you too, Dad. Back to the real world. Since none of you cheap bastards will sponsor my blog I now have to get an actual job. One that I have to show up to every day. And deal with fucking idiots all day long. My hair has already started to fall out at the thought of it. I hope you all are happy.
A few of you have requested that I continue to write my blog even while not traveling, but I can assure you that blog would not be worth your time. Today I sat on the couch and watched Vanderpump Rules – all day long. I think reality T.V. summaries are pretty much covered on the internet already. And once I start working, it’s only going more downhill from there.
So thanks for reading. And suffering through my horrendous spelling and pathetic excuse for grammar. I have certainly had fun writing it for you all. A special thanks to my BIGGEST FAN: Kim Treacy, who put my blog at the top of her priority list. Like the rest of you should have done. Seriously people, would a comment here or there have killed you?? I’ll expect better on my next adventure…whenever the hell that may be.
An extra special thank you to my TRAVEL SOUL MATE: Christina Lutz. I cannot think of anyone that I would not have murdered after two months together except you. More importantly, I don’t think there is another person on this earth who wouldn’t have murdered me after two months. So thanks for putting up with me. It feels very wrong being apart. I am uncomfortable. I keep looking around for you to tell you something funny. This will take some getting used to.