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Forget your sandals? May result in helicopters dropping sand

Discussion in 'General Discussion' started by Viking33, Jul 29, 2010.

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  1. Viking33

    Viking33
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    Disturbed

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    My sophomore year of high school I took a trip with about 40 classmates and a handful of chaperones to Paris, Venice, Florence and Rome. As many of you know, drinking over there is common among teenagers (I don't know the legal age, but I was past it) and I was a very inexperienced drinker. My first night of heavy drinking was on the overnight train from Paris to Venice and consisted of a 6 pack of Heineken and a bottle of Limoncello. Limoncello fucked my world up. A buddy bought some from the train bar and told me that it was only slightly alcoholic and tasted just like lemonade. By slightly alcoholic, he meant 64 proof. This Mike's Hard on anabol left my in a shaky train bathroom hurling my guts into the U-bend of the toilet and made me swear off drinking for the rest of the trip. Which I stuck to for almost twelve hours.

    Fast forward to Florence. Everyone is finishing dinner with house Limoncello and I decided that as a now very experienced Limoncello consumer, I could polish off a couple bottles myself. I managed well and was able to successfully stumble out of the restaurant to a club (Space Firenze if I remember correctly) where the rest of the group was starting to party. The adults all left around 10pm and told us to be back by 3am, leaving a group of high school students to their own devices in a foreign city with a ton of beautiful women. I started chatting with a cute Italian girl and she suggests doing a "Jager Bomb". I had heard stories of these legendary concoctions before but had never tried one myself. I watched intently as she dropped her shot into the glass of Red Bull, pounded it down and looked at me expectantly. I hesitantly slid my shot into the Red Bull and gulped it down, almost gagging in the process. I polished off a beer in the next ten minutes and she suggests another round of Jager Bombs. I agree.

    Fast forward to 3am and 10 bombs later. I am absolutely legless, stumbling through the club with the rest of my group. Most people are tipsy, some are drunk and I am obliterated. We have a ten block walk back to the hotel and make it about two before I suddenly realize I have to piss. Really, really bad. A friend points to a hotel we're passing as a suitable place to relieve myself and I stumble/waddle over with my hand down my pants hoping to god the dam doesn't break. I stop in front of the sliding glass door and see my reflection when inspiration hits: I'm going to pee on my reflection. I drop my pants to my ankles and begin relieving myself, giggling at how clever I am. Another member of the group looks over and yells to the rest of them to wait up, points back at me and suddenly I have an audience.

    I'm thrilled at this and begin pissing all over the door when the unthinkable happens; the sliding glass door slides open and I find myself pissing all over an ornate rug on the inside of a four star hotel. I look up and make eye contact with one of the security guards about 30 yards into the hotel. He's less than pleased and makes a sprint to the front screaming in Italian. I now have a dilemma. If I stop the stream, it will burn. If I dont stop the stream and run, I'll piss all over myself. I compromise and begin waddling backwards, leaving a trail of Jagerpiss behind (in front?) of me. I finally finish and adrenaline kicks in and I sprint back with a balding, chubby Italian guard charging behind me. to the hotel where everyone else is waiting. They saw the door open and decided that watching a crime take place equaled being involved and had run. I crawled under my hotel bed, scared shitless of the inevitable knock on the door that signified police involvement. My roommates were no help either, telling me horror stories of American prisoners in Italian jails getting tortured and raped by shady mob figures wielding 10" dicks, and I was drunk enough to believe every word.

    I spent the night under the bed and woke up the next morning to my teacher banging on the door. He barges in waving a sheet of paper in my face, screaming about spending the rest of the trip in jail and getting deported home on the next available flight at a $10,000 cost to me for the previous nights actions. I was still half drunk and half asleep and this struck me hard. I began apologizing profusely and pleading with him not to send me to the police when he cracks a smile and shows me the paper. It's a trip itinerary and rather than being notified by the police, one of my bookworm bitch classmates had told him everything at breakfast. My only punishment was carrying the teacher's backpack for the day (but I swear he stuffed it with bricks. Fucker was heavy as hell) and I had to apologize to the group for being a drunken asshole. Whatever, I still won.

    I have another story from Florence that I'll post later that made the teacher book the flight home early for me, but I have to work right now.
     
  2. dubyu tee eff

    dubyu tee eff
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    Thinks he has a chance with Christina Hendricks...

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    I'll have to keep this short since I really have to get to bed. I'll elaborate more on it later. I was in Pakistan when Benazzir Bhutto died. It was the first time I had returned since immigrating to the states back in 94. I was really lucky in that I was staying with my uncle who used to be in the air force. Because of this, he and his family get to live in a gated community patrolled by armed guards, so we were safe. Right outside the gates was insanity though. 3 days straight of not being able to leave because people went insane. All day and night you could hear gunshots being fired. Cars burned outside of the walls. The smell of burning tires was constant. When we finally got outside, it was a site to see. So much shit was destroyed. The strangest thing was the rioters had chosen to specifically target anything "american." That meant all McDonalds, or American looking banks were destroyed along with Pizza Huts and the like.

    My cousin and his family had a much worse experience since they were out when shit went down. As soon as the rioting started, the guards closed the gates and no one was allowed in or out. This meant he had to try to find a place to seek refuge. He ran into rioters twice before reaching safety. I'll elaborate on his story later. It's a lot better than mine.

    There was also that time in Morocco where we were stopped by soldiers because me and a few people I was traveling with were drunk. I had to hide a liquor bottle without them noticing. I was able to pull it off. It would be a much more interesting story if they found it.
     
  3. Inquisitive

    Inquisitive
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    Should still be lurking

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    SGEDIT: I don't know what you think you were doing but a simple "Bump" doesn't fly around here unless it's being bumped from the Suggestion Board. Add to the thread or don't post at all.
     
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