Friday, September 11 – Saturday, September 12, 2015
Now that I’m 30, I think it is only appropriate that I get to take an actual suitcase on a trip. You know, one that does not require me to strap all my belongings to my back. The Mean Girls were very excited when I announced they could bring a rolling suitcase. Just to give you a background, not only do I plan our trips, I also tell the girls what bags they are allowed to take and what they need to pack. I know it sounds slightly overbearing. It is. Now here is the problem with a big rolling suitcase: too much room. You are spoiled for choice. Could I get by for two weeks with half the clothes I packed, of course. But the room is there, so why not. I even packed two scarves. I don’t even fucking wear scarves. Other things I brought just for shits: a soft cooler, an extension cord, fiber gummy vitamins. I have been forewarned about France’s lack of vegetables and incontinence is the the business.
So off we went with our giant yet convenient luggage. After wolfing down a burrito in the new Tom Bradley terminal (adios mexican food) we were boarding our first leg to Frankfurt. I was in the row behind Jorgie with a surly German couple who gave me the stank eye from the moment I sat down. Although they are German, so that might just be their bitchy resting faces. Feeling uncomfortable, I asked the girl in front of me to switch me seats so I could be in Jorgie’s row and not have to sleep with one eye open. Jorgie and I had a yummy little German fellow in between us. He didn’t talk much. Or at all. But he laughed at a few of my jokes so I know he spoke English. Although I’m not sure how he sat through a ten hour flight with pants that tight. European men must have excellent circulation. I watched “Pitch Perfect 2” and was informed later that the entire plane could hear me laughing. What else is new? I attempted to watch Cinderella but I just couldn’t take it. Perhaps it was the reminder that I am on a friendmoon instead of a honeymoon with Price Charming. Acutally, I think it was the fact that (1) Cinderella is a boring basic bitch and (2) I’m not 8 years old. After that I had a nice little xanax/temazepam/red wine cocktail and off to sleep I went. You all know I’m not allowed to take Ambien after the Homeland Security debacle of 2008, so this is the best I can do. Plus, I have a prescription for one of them…and one out of two ain’t bad.
After the 10 hour first leg we killed a few hours in the Frankfurt airport before our next flight to Sardinia. Our German man-tendant on this flight was all kinds of fabulous. When I ordered water from the drink cart he asked me if I was sure I didn’t want anything else because “you know it’s free”. Apparently I just look like a natural boozer, because no one else got the peer pressure. So I told him that I was fine with water but if he had some champs I’ve never been know to turn down a glass. So Champs it was. He seemed pleased that I had folded so quickly. In my defense it actually was five o’clock in Germany.
We landed in Olbia, Sardinia and picked up our rental car. After surveying our car and insisting that the rental car agent make note of every scratch on each door (I don’t know how shady these Euros get with rentals, so best to cover yo ass), we were off to Cala Gonone, Sardinia. Our home base for the next few nights. We got in around nine but got lost for a few minutes looking for the hotel. Luckily Jorgie pulled some fast and furious driving moves on the tiny streets of the town. We must not have looked so bad after about 18 hours of travel, because our host felt it was the perfect time to give us a 20 minute spiel about things to do in the area, complete with maps and lots of arrows. Arrows everywhere. I’m just going to wake up in the morning and see a map with 40 fucking arrows on it, so what is the point? All I was good for was a bowl of homemade pasta and bed, so that is what we did.
Woke up this morning to shitty weather, so let’s hope it blows over and I can put my new go pro to use today!