March 27, 2005
USA Cont.
We checked in and proceded to visit our room. I attacked Sassy in the elevator with my lips and maybe hands. Yes, hands. This is the usual course of events when I am in an elevator with her. I gave a little wave to the security camera as we arrived on our floor.
After a short walk away from the elevator, Sassy fumbled with the electronic door key for an age before I said "Give it to me" (the key, you pervs) and unlocked the door. We moved inside the room and both made noises of appreciation.
We were something like 32 stories up and the view was incredible. Our room overlooked a river, and the remnants of a snow storm were clearly visible.
Sassy grabbed the guide booklet and started to read up on the services while I turned the TV on and contemplated going online to say hello.
Our room had a minibar that was controlled by weight. If you remove an item it KNOWS what you have taken and instantly charges you. I did have the idea of putting an ashtray inside for weight, and then removing an item - but I didn't want to try. Those minibars are expensive. And tricksy.
I sat down at the desk and declared it to be my new office.
We agreed to visit the shops before we did any gambling, so that was to be our first stop.
The shops were very expensive but equally cool. One shop litterally had a giant aquarium for a frontage. This was especially well timed for us because we got to see the fish being fed. By a Scuba diver. In a shop front. Surreal to the max.
A lot of the shops sold memorabilia, signed cells from animation and film. Signed instruments, and sports equipment. There was a triple pack of signed Michael Jordan shirts @ $4,000 each ($12,000 for the set, yay maths).
"Wait a second, there is a Krispy Kreme shop! Oh boy Oh boy Oh boy." I said.
Finally, something I could afford. I made a mental note to visit there when I was hungrier. Mmmm donuts.
I could hear the slot machines getting louder and I knew we were approaching the gaming floor. Time to put my poker-face on.
[to be continued]
Posted by skoo at 04:49 PM | Comments (1)
March 23, 2005
USA Cont.
My concept of time might seem distorted to anyone who was actually present for these events, but only one of you was there, and I am sure Sassy will forgive my slight inaccuracies, in the name of science, of course.
The next day Sassy and I decided to made plans. Now, I'm not usually one for making plans, Weebl will attest to this. He and I once flew to America without knowing where we would sleep, so this whole plan-making thing was probably a step in the right direction.
Sassy suggested that we go to a casino. Sweet mother of rice, did she not realise what she was saying? Me, in a real life casino? With real life money? HELL YES.
Sassy insisted on booking a room, I would have rather driven there and slept on one of the various slot machines. In the end a room was booked. A lovely king-sized room, with a TV that apparently can access the internet, as well as doubling as an n64 games console. This sounded promising from the start.
Our trip to the Casino was shockingly quick. My supremely accurate navigation guided us there like a heat-seeking golden arrow from a marksman's bow, just before it plunges into the heart of his foe. That rhyme was not intentional, but I believe it worked well. It stays.
We arrived to see the giant shiny building that would act as our home for a while, and I pleaded with Sassy to let us park our own car, but she would not listen and drove us right into the valet section. Good god, these men were like an organised team of breakdancing chimps. Record-breaking chimps. Before I knew what was happening we were inside the casino and our car was gone. I vaguely recall looking over my shoulder to see the very shiny corvette that was next to us. I may have said something like "I'll order mine in yellow".
[tbc]
Posted by skoo at 10:37 PM | Comments (0)
USA Cont.
The cigarettes arrived, Marlboro lights. None of that perforated filter shit, this was the real deal. I would require an incendiary device of some sort. Usually I would reach for my Zippo lighter, but with new laws coming into place, I opted not to run the risk of having it taken away by those damnable customs agents.
Sassy informed me that she had a weapon suitable for the job, at her house. These cancer sticks would have to wait.
As our journey continued onward I noticed a roadsign that said:
SLOW
CHILDREN.
I made note of this information. It would prove to be useful in a later situation.
We arrived at Sassy's house and bundled out of the car. The next moments are a blur as I took my bags inside as quickly as possible, only to be confronted by one of Sassy's brothers.
We immediately took our stances, before throwing up some gang signs. Of course, neither of us are in a gang - this was purely a way for us to greet eachother without actually touching. Eww.
"Fo sheazle, my weasel" I screeched.
With the ceremony, and the first step in my journey complete, I was able to relax more, and the rest of the night blurred into "sleep".
[...more to follow...]
Posted by skoo at 02:54 PM | Comments (0)
March 21, 2005
USA Cont.
The journey back to Sassy's house was long and mostly uneventful. This was not the first time I had made the journey, so using my immense wisdom, I tilted my chair back so I could rest my occular sensory devices. Apparently 50 cent was going to take me to the candy shop, how kind of him.
"Cigarettes." I stated. "I'll need cigarettes."
It was at this moment that I was told that in order to buy cigarettes, I would require I.D.
Hold up. Let me get this straight... I need photographic I.D. just to buy cigarettes? What a crazy country. They force you to drive when you are about 12, but you have to be 40 just to buy booze and apparently you can only smoke if you are a pensioner.
No wonder customs tried to get my rolling tobacco at the airport, the poor bastards were just after a smoke.
I drifted back into my timeworn state only to be shaken loose by Sassy.
"Do you have any cash?" She asked, some urgency in her voice.
"Cash?" I thought, moments before I said "Cash?" and opened my eyes.
We were sat in some sort of queue. Many cars were all around us, and I'm pretty sure I heard a hellicopter. Actually, I said cars, but I meant huge-ass vans, trucks and people carriers. The average American doesn't even know what a car looks like. I started to doubt our disguise, as the vehicle Sassy had chosen was indeed a car. Bum fuzz.
My senses were streaming now, trying to decode the situation. Why was there suddednly 20 lanes of traffic, with each lane forming a queue? It seemed like there were many Taxis all in the farthest left lane, although I don't think this helped any in my deduction. Was this some sort of roadblock?
"Customs must really want my tobacco." I muttered to myself.
I glanced ahead to see an arm protruding from one of the vehicles in our lane.
"Is he trying to escape?" I thought. Soon I was to learn what this crazy situation was all about. Our lane slowly moved forward and my eyes were able to focus on the series of mystic hieroglyphs positioned above us.
"Toll Booth?" I said. "What the hell is a Toll Booth?"
Sassy got me up to speed rather quickly as I nervously handed her three fresh dollar bill notes, while trying to avoid eye contact with the little savage people that lived in the booths. Spies, no doubt.
Apparently they have toll booths because they dont pay tax, or something like that. With this newfound knowledge, you'd be forgiven for thinking they must have excellent road surfaces and transport systems in place. Not in the slightest. I believe the Americans keep their roads in a state of decay to further prolong the transport "system" and provide mechanics and tyre-fitters with jobs. Those rat bastards have them all fooled!
It was at this point I deployed Sassy to buy my cigarettes. I was comfortable in my seat, and although my American accent is more believable, we agreed that she was going to be the point-man for this mission. Not that she is a man, but "point-person" sounds fucking awful.
[to be etc...]
Posted by skoo at 12:58 PM | Comments (0)
March 20, 2005
USA Cont.
When I said I was free, I may have lied.
I strutted out of the doors, expecting to see Sassy (my girlfriend getaway driver) waving at me from the other side of the highly secure hand-rail. My eyes quickly scanned back and forth, but there were no signs of her. This was a potential spanner in my works. "Act cool skoo, everyone is only staring at you because you are first out. Don't trip over or anything. That's it, good lad, goooood lad, keep walking now." I walked past as if I knew what I was doing. They didn't suspect a thing! Those silly Americans, so naive.
I walked right past everyone and stopped near the door before pulling a 180 and once more scanning for Sassy. I am quite adept at spotting her from behind, but I refuse to explain my methods in detail.
"Nope. She aint there." I thought, in an American accent. Shucks, I done did it now.
I whipped out my trusty tool and pushed it in just the right place to wake it up.
Now that I had turned on my phone (what were you thinking?) I was able to call Sassy and find out what twist of fate had caused this really hard to document waste of time.
Do you know what the reason was? Of course not. Otherwise you'd be writing this, and I'd be freaked out. The reason was something to do with traffic. Anticlimactic answer, huh?
I can assure you this is not the end of my tale.
[to be continued... again...]
Posted by skoo at 09:57 PM | Comments (1)
My trip to the US of A
It will be written-up as and when I can be arsed have time.
For the purposes of people who are reading this for the first time, "Sassy" is also known as "Kharysma".
Here is the first update:
The flight was short and sweet. 52 movies were available, I saw two of them. Alfie was first up. Utter pants compared to the original. Time was not to be wasted in mourning, however, as I leapt straight into Garden State. Somehow I had managed to fool myself this was going to be a stoner comedy. Boy was I wrong. After watching these two mind-numbingly cack-fisted hack jobs, I tried to keep my brain alive by watching a documentary about how vitamin supplements can actually be bad for you. The damn annoying thing was, I ran out of time and missed the end half, so I don't actually know why. Oh well.
My plane landed at Logan airport. Not that I own a plane you understand, but the plane in which I was held prisoner for many gruelling hours finally landed on a slightly snowy/slushy runway. At one point I was sure that we'd actually end up spinning off into another plane. If only.
I walked power-walked ran past everyone that had left the plane before me. That is my number 1 tip for people who fly. Do not be affraid to run past these fools. If you waste time before customs, you will end up stuck behind hundreds of them and wishing you were back on the plane listening to outdated radio stations and eating snack foods that contain no flavours what-so-ever.
I had been forewarned of cold weather, but I am English. We do not fear the American "cold". I was wearing a T-shirt that said "I need more cowbell!" and I think this is why I was rushed through customs. They may have rushed me through, but they still took my fingerprints, the bastards. What do they have against me? I started to get nervous. Was I the only one they did this to? What would happen next?
I did not have to wait long to find out. As I told customs I was not carrying any tobacco, it suddenly dawned on me that I had indeed bought 10 pouches of rolling tobacco in duty-free shopping. The sweat must have been obvious, and I started to fumble on those easy questions like "How long will you be staying in the US, sir?".
Shit. "Errr, a week... I think" I said meekly. I knew as soon as I said it, that things could turn bad at any moment. I ws cracking up under the pressure. I needed to act cool. I should say something.
"Seven days." I blurted out. Oh, you simpering fool, skoo. You simpering fool! I realised later, that this was not only a line from The Ring, but I was actually intending to stay for eight days. This was my second, albeit unintentional, lie.
Just to recap: We now have a tired and dishevelled Englishman in a freezing cold US airport, wearing a "comedy" t-shirt, and dripping with sweat. I must have looked so guilty that it double bluffed him. Ha! Before I could tell anymore lies, my visa was stamped. I was free to buy guns and leave tips for anything that moves.
Or so I thought.
I made my way to baggage reclaim. Here I wasted perhaps 20 minutes of my life watching a variety of bags moving around the conveyor belt like some sort of badly prepared sushi. "Holy shit, that's my bag!" I thought.
With hindsight I think I was perhaps a little too happy to see my bag.
I somehow got past the next customs agent in record time, he literally only required a waft of my passport, and I was now finally free from the shackles of airport oppression.
[to be continued...]
Posted by skoo at 09:30 PM | Comments (0)