Why Europe?

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Excuse the emotional deluge that was the previous entry. I had to write about it.

To erase all confusion, though I did add a few lines in the end about writing that entry “last night”, the timeline for the blog stands in mid–August when I returned to America after visiting Teddy in Calgary.

The rest of the summer/fall of 2010 was largely inconsequential. There was another Vegas trip in late October for Halloween/my birthday that was even crazier than the first (all pictures are from that weekend). We managed to sneak into a table at XS, DJ Tiesto just walked in one night and ripped up the club, Floyd Mayweather popped up in another club (presumably to duck Pacquiao), an 8-hour blackjack rampage ensued and a blacked out Kentucky managed to clear airport security on an Orange Day despite yelling “pew, pew, pew” while brandishing pistol hand gestures. The rest of the Vegas group were minorities and we stood amazed as security smiled and laughed along. Fucking white people.

There were a few other dumbass parties, bar hopping forays and just random nights where I got insanely drunk…but nothing of consequence. I didn’t get arrested. I didn’t get involved in some twisted situations. I didn’t even make out once during the stretch from July (when SF Jew occurred) to when I left California in December.

And then it was mid-December 2010. I was done with graduate school. I had a job lined up (more on that in a future blog entry)…but it started in February 2011.

So what did I do?

I bought a ticket to Europe.

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Why Europe?

Unlike my white friends and many of my readers, I don't have a fascination for Europe for the usual reasons. My dear friend Teddy has listed numerous reasons white folk (and sophisticated minorities) love Europe. Read it here. Culture, Europeans, its chic and etcetera. None of these things interests me in the slightest.

Take culture.

Most Americans fly to Europe for this reason alone. “The culture,” one says and the rest nod knowingly. Then they proceed to swarm the Louvre and take the exact same photo of the Mona Lisa everyone else takes. “Culture,” everyone around nods knowingly. I have no interest. I’m about as cultured as a SPAM and Wonder Bread sandwich. I didn't even realize “culture” was a reason to go to Europe. When I first started planning, I planned on just staying in Italy. Until a “cultured” friend started getting excited, “Oh you must check out the art museums! They have exquisite Renaissance pieces!”

Yeah...what the fuck was I going to do in Italy? Though pasta is one of my favorite foods, eating it everyday would bring about violent flashbacks to college when jars of Classico tomato sauce dumped on cold noodles passed for dinner. Italian art museums don't interest me in the slightest except to get a funny Facebook profile picture of me fellating Michelangelo’s David. Other than a few pasta dishes, watching some soccer and acquiring an STD, what does Italy provide?

Hell, what does the rest of Europe provide? Music? Not since the Mozart and Handel and Bach and Beethoven…now Europe is overrun with parallel musical “revolutions” named techno, electronic, dubstep and lounge that electronic pop connoisseurs insist are different. Dubstep, is like more, you know, uptempo...

Please. I could probably find more culture in a Jersey Shore episode than in the streets of Europe. Europe hasn't been relevant since Berlin walls were collapsing…Europe is just another fucking satellite under the MTV umbrella America props up for the world. Need proof? Everyone in Europe knows American celebrities. I can't name a single French/Italian/Spanish actor and neither can you.

Moving down the list...Europeans. For some reason, everyone thinks Europeans are cool. I have no idea why. Picture any European you’ve met and other than the fact that they happen to be from Europe, why are they cool? That's the thing...every European is cool just because they're from Europe. Which leads to circular logic because many people go to Europe because Europeans are cool.

Europeans are not cool. If they said they were from Boise, Idaho, and you saw them wearing racing shoes, tight jeans, an even tighter v-neck t-shirt, frosted tips and manicured eyebrows, the first thing that comes to mind is: fucking faggot. Then they take 2-hour lunch breaks. Fucking lazy ass faggot. Then they tell you how much their outfit costs. Fucking lazy ass rich faggot. They spend mad money on clothes they can’t afford, get constant haircuts, always complain about finances while not working (striking, is the proper term they use) and they’re too intimidating for you to mention these blatant contradictions. Europeans are just hood niggers dipped caked in baguette flour.

But since Europeans happen to know the difference between dubstep and techno, they can look gay, they can act gay—worse, they can act like douchy gay guys—but they get women. They always get women (see the similarity slowly fill out?).

Except hood niggers are fucking ill cuz they bang gats and talk with slurred speech while sipping sizzurp. Europeans just cling to their accents to mask their lack of character. Dropping French phrases in an English sentence doesn’t make you cool…it’s just the first step to running away from a fight.

European women are even worse.

The Brits are ugly as fuck and turn innocent hickeys into violent throat slashing CSI mysteries. The female population on the rest of the continent still hasn’t jumped on the shower daily and shaving body hair bandwagon. Eau de Perfume cannot mask the smell of dank sweat embedded in the tangled mess in your pits. France does have some pretty girls, but its hard to see their faces when all you see are their nostrils as they look down at the commonfolk of America.

As such, the usual reasons for Europe don’t cut it. Think the opposite emotion of horny. That’s what I feel when I hear/see/think of Justin Bieber and “Culture” and “Europeans” are just above him (her?) on the list.

So back to the question at hand. Why Europe?

Because I like to fucking party. And I’ve never been.

Actually, the real reason is probably: I'm still not over my ex-girlfriend and Europe is the only first-world location to jolt me into getting over her. But let's ignore that (and the preceding blog entry). An American male is not supposed to have emotions.

I like to party.

Check EuroTrip, RoadTrip...Europe will be a trip. Europeans love drinking: the UK with beer and whiskey, France with wine, Germany with beer...its a continent made for drinking. And although dubstep/techno/electro/lounge/whatever the fuck is completely horrid to listen to normally…apparently its the second coming of Christ when everyone is high. And everyone in Europe is high. I'll be floating through drunken and high stupors as I stereotypically stumble around as the drunken American tourist who claims he's Canadian while pissing on national monuments.

A grand, sweeping, majestic plan. Except with me nothing ever, ever goes according to plan. The problem was the flight. I was flying in New York City to London, the two cities that were getting pummeled by blizzards. I spent a day in an airport, my flight got pushed back a day, then pushed back a day…

The scheduling of the flight wasn’t the only problem. Even more important was the cost. Or rather, the cost relative to my financial state.

My online bank statement shows my bank account balance at $1,809.77 before I bought the ticket. My ticket was $600 and I don’t have a credit card. The dollar is getting slaughtered by the Pound/Euro.

Finally the weather abated and three days after my scheduled arrival, I touchdowned in Heathrow. I changed $200 to pounds.

Remaining money:

$1000
£138

One month to go.

Oh boy.

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