Never mind the horrible night I had last night. Kidney stones or not, I'm alive and on my way to London as I type this. But, it wouldn't be right if there wasn't something to liven things up on this 2 hour train ride. That energy comes from the general direction of the tap and the 8 wasted sods that occupy my coach with me. Here's what I have to say about them:It wouldn't be an adventure if something crazy didn't happen every step of the way. In addition to dragging my luggage all around Beansheaf, I am now spending the next hour and a half with the craziest Scots I have ever encountered. I thought that drinking was saved for only the elite European travelers of 2007, but these eight have got alcoholism down to a fine art. It's only 1.30 and the majority of them are already wasted. A rocking train is bad enough when you're trying to keep your balance while sober. There is no stopping these winners, though, and they're topping off their bottles of wine, smirnoff and beer like it's nobody's business. Their antics completely redefine the meaning of a quiet coach. I can't even believe that there are people like this in the world. I've managed to avoid them for the majority of my time here, and their complete disregard for rules and disrespect for others leaves me with no other emotion but disgust towards them. It's appalling to me watch them interact with each other, and I realize that some people really are better off left completely alone. Let them have their stupidity, their alcohol, and their foul language, I know that their happiness is a facade that is only enhanced by their ability to put others down. Save the brawls for the bar, I paid to sit in a train and ride to London, not to partake of your crude gestures and mocking tones. Not everyone can have as much fun as you, but fun or not, I'd rather take life's knocks while sober. That's all.
Monday, July 13, 2009
After my post about mullets, they started cropping up everywhere I looked. Unfortunately, I was unable to catch any pictures of these rare specimen, because I wasn't in a public space where I wouldn't be noticed. (I can just imagine someone seeing me take their picture on the metro; what a reaction that would be.) Anyway, I just had to let all of you know two more versions of the mullet that I found last week.
1) The dread-mullet: This person cut the top of their hair like they were ready to join a league of professionals, and, perhaps, even wear a tie; but, they get caught by a group of weed-smoking, Marley-loving hippies who force them to reject society and dread their hair as a symbol of loyalty to the Rasta in their soul.
2) The half-hawk, half-mullet: The head of this person is the result of experimenting lengths with a pair of clippers. They first tried a 0 on the sides and weren't sure if they liked the whiteness of their scalp. As an alternative, they opted for a lengthier top... but not so lengthy as to get in their eyes. A 1 did the job quite well, and it left enough for styling into one of those cute little faux-hawks that everyone is wearing nowadays. Here comes the kicker, though: the clippers ran out of batteries before the person could decide the length for the back of their hair. So, with 7-8 inches of gorgeous mane left, they ran with the look. Just watch, he'll be in next month's issue of HairTrends International.
Friday, July 10, 2009
I have decided to chronicle my time in Europe through a series of mullets. I have seen more here than any bad 80s hairdresser, and I've just started taking pictures to create a memory book filled with creative, crazy, and cute (is there such thing?) mullets. One would think that they're all the same, but believe me, a mullet can be worn in many different fashions. Americans have recently become more familiar with the "reverse mullet" worn by Kate Gosselin, but Europeans have yet to catch on to that craze. With only a few styles of mullets under their belts, Spaniards wear them in one of two ways: the business in front/party in back-style, or the "I want a short haircut but I'm not willing to give up my length"-style. The wearer can then decide to pull the mullet back into a half-ponytail, with the top hanging freely, or clip the top whilst allowing the mane to flow gently down their back. It's wonderful that I have finally learned to recognize and respect all the many varieties of mullets. This is one step to becoming a more loving individual. After all, I think Jesus's hairstyle was as mullet-esque as deity can get.
This man wears his mullet proudly at Tibidabo, Barcelona's premiere mountaintop amusement park. Adding to the finesse of his hair is the lovely green backpack, and his enthusiastic smile (not pictured) as he watches his son or daughter on the carousel. Please try not to judge.