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Tuesday, July 05, 2005

No more cheap tickets, please

July. 27º. Beautiful sunny Catalunya. Cheap ass flights courtesy of Easyjet and Ryanair. Plane loads of drunken English hooligans lousing it up on the streets of Barcelona.

From La Vanguardia:

With almost three hundred flights a week from the United Kingdom and Ireland (the majority operated by low cost airlines), Catalunya, and especially Barcelona have become one of the favorite destinations for drunken British tourism and their stag and hen parties.

[They] buy tickets on the internet with companies like Easyjet and Ryanair well in advace so that the cost of the cost of the trip is almost derisory, thus making enough cash available to get completely wasted and raise all hell.

[ok, I took some liberties with that last one – but how do you translate para beber por todo lo alto y montar una juerga de aúpa ?]

Oh what fun it is. A year ago I wish I had my camera to show you exactly what I mean. I was walking through the Raval with my girlfriend when we came across a group of blokes. They were mesmerized by a group of Spanish girls passing by in tight pantalones.* I don't blame them because the caliber of women here is pretty damn high.

One of the blokes called out to the girls. What he actually said I don't remember, but it was irrelevant. Just a prelude to what I suppose is some kind of English mating ritual. He dropped his jeans and exposed his pasty ass to the girls. He started slapping his cheeks. Then he leered at them and burped.

People on vacation think they have a special license for stupidity. As if acting like a louse was a badge of their personal freedom. They hang out only with fellow countrymen, and don't bother to learn even the most rudimentary vocabulary of the country they visit. They sing football pride anthems like anybody cares. They go to pubs as if they were some strange wonderful anomaly they just discovered.

Houellebecq, the great French novelist wrote: The English only go to a vacation spot because they are sure to find other Englishmen there [...] It's perfectly clear, the English aren't exactly dying to discover new things.

We Americans must have inherited some of that tradition, because not a day passes by that I don't see groups of yanks filing in and out of Hard Rock or McDonalds or some other chain crap like that.

People, what is the point? Are you really that dimwitted? Variation keeps the blood healthy. Otherwise you become a slope headed knuckle dragging drunk staggering out of a pub starting fights, or some fool wearing a sombrero on the Ramblas. Think about it. Would you did this shit at home? No wait. Don't answer that. Some of you probably would.

The solution? No more cheap tickets.


I'm bracing myself for August. Along with the sweltering heat an event of near catastrophic proportions will happen: August 7th, Bonorrhea and his Edginess will be rocking in Barcelona with über group U2. A deluge of zombies will warble "limón" in unison and raid the pubs and hostels of this fair city proclaiming they are "the greatest band of all time."

* pantalones are the Spanish variation of pants. Being skin tight is essential. Spanish female posteriors seem to be particularly well suited to their use.