Douchebag | What Up, Vienna?

13Nov/094

i know all there is to know about the crying game

Alex and I had separate flights from Vienna to Hawaii. Mine was through DC. And that is where this story takes place. I arrived in my nation's capitol about 4pm. I had about an hour and a half to connect and it takes bloody forever to go through customs. You have to wait there in line with a million people in the same predicament as you. And there was this jackass of a guy who was trying to cut past everybody because he has a plane to catch. Really, a plane? Guess what? We ALL have a plane to catch, a-hole. I actually said that to him minus the a-hole part.

I finally got to my gate with a few minutes to spare. And....the flight was overbooked. (Thanks United!) So I just had to wait there for my name to be called. Tick tock. Tick tock. Finally, she sighed and said, I hate to do this. And then she said two names...one not my name and one MY NAME. Hallelujah. Let's roll. (Okay, maybe that's not the right thing to say when talking about an impending plane ride) So I get on the plane where I have been instructed to find an open seat. I spy one right away but the other girl was right there and her name was called first and I am nice so I did something that was going to become very regrettable... I offered her the seat. I did that assuming the other purported open seat was just going to be a few rows back...so I kept walking... and walking... until I found myself at the end of the plane part. Shit, no more seats. Dammit! Why was I so nice to that girl I didn't know? She was probably a jerkface too. Maybe I could just go unnoticed and let this plane take off with me standing here and I could do a choreographed dance between the aisles and the lavatories for the next five hours? I didn't get a chance. I got spotted. I wish I had worn my "inconspicuous part of the interior of an airplane" camouflage. Exit, stage left. Sigh. Cue plane take off. Now show me some despair. Oh, DESPAIRRRRR.

I was so very tired. And so very screwed. It was too late to get on any flights after that one. Alex was on his way to Los Angeles where he was expecting to meet me at my gate when we were then supposed to go to meet the good Jim Hamilton at baggage claim. I had no American cell phone. I had no American money. So I had to go exchange my 10 odd euros for cash and then use that cash to get change from a bartender. Then, I had to travel in a time machine back to 1998 and use a payphone. Oh, the humanity. And I'm jetlagged to the point of feeling drugged. Well, I guess, technically, I was jetlagged AND drugged. It's a PRESCRIPTION!

So then I had to go wait in line. It seems really unfair that they overbook your flight, they screw your plans and then they make you wait in an unreasonably long line. (Thanks United!) Not to mention an unreasonable long line with pissed-off, crazy people. Everybody wants you to join their Team Angry Consumer. I just wanted out of there. It took probably an hour and a half of line waiting before I got my turn. At this point, I was kind of glad to be getting a hotel and some cash. It was late and I had enough jetlag to work through already without adding on another three-hour time difference. There was another flight at 8am in the morning which would put me in Los Angeles 11amish which wasn't going to be so terrible. However, as the man helping me was ringing it up, he realized that that morning flight was sold out too and he wasn't going to have a specific seat available for me. He said that I was first on the list though and it shouldn't be a problem. (DANGER DANGER DANGER) I was too tired to protest though. (No, Michelle. Protest! You should protest!) Sure, fine, whatever. Where's the bed?

I got back to the airport the next morning with plenty of time to spare. I wanted to be the first person at the gate. The rep finally showed up about an hour after I got there and she barely looked up when she told me that the flight was overbooked (Thanks United!) and she couldn't promise that I would get a seat and THAT SHE WOULD CALL MY NAME WHEN SHE DID. She had to say that over and over to people. I didn't want to make her madder so I just sat nearby and waited patiently and hoped hoped hoped things were not going to turn into a shitstorm. Then, I heard her say to somebody that the next available flight after this one didn't leave until like 8pm. SHITSTORM! I started to panic. And I realized that drastic measures needed to be taken. There was only one choice. I had only one option. I went up to that counter and focused on the new less-angry-seeming lady that was now there... and I started, "I know that you have said this over and over and that you'll call my name when you can give me a seat but I just had to say something because I just have to get on that plane. I can't stay here in D.C. all day. I don't know anybody here. (Voice crack) I don't have a cell phone. I don't have any money. (Tears) I've been living in Vienna and my boyfriend is supposed to meet me in Los Angeles and we're going to Hawaii tomorrow and I can't stay here (Full-on crying with an audience)." I looked at her face and I saw that I broke her. She looked back at me with Mom eyes. Mission accomplished. She said to just be patient and listen for my name. I wasn't embarrassed that I cried in public. I wasn't embarrassed because all those people waiting for their names to be called were just jealous that they didn't do it first. And they couldn't do it now. That would be so transparent. Five minutes later, mine was the first name called. And when I went up to get my boarding pass, the first meaner gate lady held on to it, looked at me with these super "tsk, tsk" eyes and said, "Next time... don't cry."

Sorry, mean lady. It worked too good. My only regret is I didn't cry the night before.

Tagged as: airport, crying, douchebag, hotel, pitfalls, travel, xanax 4 Comments

28Oct/093

sturm, entschuldigung and clowns…oh, my!

Have we talked about Sturm here yet? I wasn't made aware of it's existence until my first night in Vienna. I refuse to consult Wikipedia right now because I'm in Hawaii and I'm lazy so I'm just going to tell you what I think I know about Sturm. It is a very young, yeasty wine that tastes very sweet. Apparently there is a season for Sturm and right now we are nearing the end of it. You got your rot (red) Sturm and your weiss (white) Sturm. I preferred the weiss...until I went to the circus and had the rot. I don't know how to articulate why I liked it better. Maybe it was the charm of the circumstances under which I had it. Perhaps it was because it was freezing outside and the high alcohol content provided me much-needed warmth. More likely, however, is that I think the rot is pretty. I am a connoisseur indeed.

Coming up for air while I'm trying to speed-drink my Sturm.

Speaking of the circus, over the past few weeks riding the D trolley to the 1st district, we kept going past a gaudy, kitschy, as-fake-looking-as-something-can-look circus. Naively, we finally stopped by one night thinking we could just stroll right in but turns out the Roncali Circus is one hot ticket. We ended up buying seats for the following Tuesday. And Tuesday couldn't come quickly enough. I just prepared for the craziest and hoped for the craziest. We got there early as requested, which was good because I needed my fix of rot Sturm.

The Roncali Circus in front of the Vienna City Hall. Or something like City Hall.

A line began to form waiting for the doors to open so we quickly joined up. Once the doors were open the line moved swiftly enough. We get to the front of the line approaching the ticket taker and out of nowhere this seemingly upper middle class looking lady with her two kids burst out of nowhere and try to cut in front of me. Instincts took over. My arm clotheslined out stopping her in her impolite tracks and I managed to retrieve the German word for "What the fuck do you think you're doing, jerkface" which is "Entschuldigung." The spelling may be off. I am impaired with the disease of one fine mojito. So I stopped the lady and Alex and I got past the ticket taker. I'm sure that lady was right behind us though. Alex approved of my aggressions and restated something he had brought up to me before which is that Austrians do not do lines. Now, that is fine. But why form one in the first place? If you don't do lines, just bumrush the show. Own it. Don't start a line and get me in a linemood and then try to cut. You're in a line, you can't cut. I don't care which hunk of land you're from. It just ain't how it's done. So I invite these Austrians, or perhaps it's the whole of the continent, to cut in front of me. My clothesline-ready arm is waiting for you.

Now, for your viewing pleasures, a photo and video essay on our trip to the German circus:

Inside the Roncali Circus big top.

I'm excited for the circus to start!

What do they do in German circuses? I'm hoping clownfights!

All in all, we had a great time. We only understood about five percent of what was said but the rest was Beatles songs, adorable ponies and clowns throwing plates so we found ourselves quite able to follow along. Speaking of which, the circus band was dressed up in Sgt. Pepper garb and played almost exclusively songs from the Fab Four. Hello, Cirque du Soleil? I hope there's not going to be an intercontinental circus rumble. Wait, what am I saying? Please God, I hope there is going to be an intercontinental circus rumble. Please, please, please. Could somebody start some prayer chains? Maybe pay a make-a-wish kid off to call this one in for me? Come on, everybody wins when there is an intercontinental circus rumble! You're picturing it in your heads right now, aren't you? Of course you are.

Tagged as: austria, blogsherpa, circus, culture, douchebag, drinking, vienna 3 Comments

11Oct/095

they do things different in these here parts

I had a very horrifying experience last week and it has to do with a ~~ice cream~~ gelato shop. Maybe I shouldn't indict the whole gelato shop community. Perhaps it is just this one gelato place. We went there after we unsuccessfully tried to see Inglorious Basterds. It's playing at a theater that shows OV (original version) movies but that also meant, as we were informed, that there were to be no English subtitles for the two-thirds of the movie that were in German and French. So we ixnayed that plan and decided to transfer our party to the gelato place a few doors down.

Now, I have a system when I get an ice cream. I scope out the flavors, decide what I want and then I decide what flavors I want to try. And then I buy the flavors I originally wanted. Sometimes I get surprised and a flavor wins me over during the trying process. You never know! So I'm in this gelato place, I'm scoping out the flavors, then I move onto the next phase. "Yes, could I try the "Cookie" flavor, bitte?" And this is the response I get, "No try." Uhhh, what? Excuse me? It was SHOCKING. No try? Would you like to punch me in the face now? Oh, here's my new puppy. Would you like to kick it? How about you take this stained glass window I just slaved over for the last two years and break it over my great-grandmother's head? I've never seen "The Others." Would you like to tell me that Nicole Kidman and her two creepy kids are the ghosts? OH, THE HUMANITY.

Now, I'm just going to have to try every goddamned gelato place in this backwards town to see what's what. Look what you turned me into, No-try!

Tagged as: customer service, douchebag, food 5 Comments

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