If the flight was indicative of the evening’s events, I was in for a long, pornographic, party-filled night.
Switzerland
Aware I was to be out until the wee hours of the morning, parading the streets of Bâle in the thick of local tradition, and for me, much needed cultural development, I stood up from my Britax Rock A Tot Infant Carrier-sized plane seat, buttoned up my jacket, and deplaned with a curious smile, my laptop roller bag and subsiding erection in tow.
The last SMS to reach my cell phone before departing Nice stated, “Clouds just broke. I see blue skies!” Being the smartly manly-man I am, I remembered to pack my hat and mittens, which were professionally donned as I walked confidently down the stairs of my delayed easyJet flight, and into the frigid, freezing-rain filled Swiss night.
France
As I crossed Immigration into the French territory of the airport, successfully using my new Resident Card for the first time, I was greeted by an unbelievably precious young lady waving a homemade flag, white borders encapsulating a pink heart. As she smiled from ear to ear, her short blonde hair innocently falling over the right side of her face giving her an aura and preciousness that was palpable, I thought to myself, ‘Who the fu*k is that?’
I soon found my friends to be off to my left and away from the ropes, which were reluctantly keeping Pink Flag Waving Girl out of Customs. We greeted, groped, exchanged pleasantries, and were on our way out to the car, openly interested in staying just to see if Pink Flag Waving Girl had an eager opposite soon to exit.
We made the short stroll to the car, deposited my luggage, packed away my passport, checked the camera, and at a Frenchman’s pace, made our way back into the airport, past Pink Flag Waving Girl, and just as the clock struck midnight, proceeded to Border Control.
Switzerland
. . .
Switzerland
Aware I was to be out until the wee hours of the morning, parading the streets of Bâle in the thick of local tradition, and for me, much needed cultural development, I stood up from my Britax Rock A Tot Infant Carrier-sized plane seat, buttoned up my jacket, and deplaned with a curious smile, my laptop roller bag and subsiding erection in tow.
The last SMS to reach my cell phone before departing Nice stated, “Clouds just broke. I see blue skies!” Being the smartly manly-man I am, I remembered to pack my hat and mittens, which were professionally donned as I walked confidently down the stairs of my delayed easyJet flight, and into the frigid, freezing-rain filled Swiss night.
France
As I crossed Immigration into the French territory of the airport, successfully using my new Resident Card for the first time, I was greeted by an unbelievably precious young lady waving a homemade flag, white borders encapsulating a pink heart. As she smiled from ear to ear, her short blonde hair innocently falling over the right side of her face giving her an aura and preciousness that was palpable, I thought to myself, ‘Who the fu*k is that?’
I soon found my friends to be off to my left and away from the ropes, which were reluctantly keeping Pink Flag Waving Girl out of Customs. We greeted, groped, exchanged pleasantries, and were on our way out to the car, openly interested in staying just to see if Pink Flag Waving Girl had an eager opposite soon to exit.
We made the short stroll to the car, deposited my luggage, packed away my passport, checked the camera, and at a Frenchman’s pace, made our way back into the airport, past Pink Flag Waving Girl, and just as the clock struck midnight, proceeded to Border Control.
Switzerland
. . .
