Poems in Beerland

I took the greatest trip of my life this past summer. Me and three amigos in the course of a month visited Dublin, Prague, Munich, Rome, Cinque Terre, Interlaken, Amsterdam, Bruegge and Paris. We played a lot of games to pass the time spent on plains and trains, our favorite being the sport of drunken chess, but when these games got a little dull we wrote down whatever hazy memory was left in our head from the previous night in a bunch of journals my Mom gave us. I decided to choose one form of expression and stick with it. My choice: the poem. I am not good at poetry, but I decided to spread my wings a little. I thought I'd post them here with a bit of explanation before I inevitably lose my journal.

The day of departure was fucking flabergasting. I-75 was in gridlock all the way back to the Cartersville exit because some asshole decided to have one of the most horrific accident in recent memory. Some people can be so selfish. Our flight to Dublin was cancelled due to bad weather about the time our sealtbelts were fastened and our tray tables were in their upright and locked position. We spent the next 4 hours rushing from gate to gate trying to get on another flight to no avail. At our lowest point, when we found out we would have to wait until the next day to leave, our spirits got an enourmous boost.

Traffic Jam, gaint ham-
burger made me full.
Waiting in the rain
I want Guinness

A meager start...but a start nonetheless. Later that day...

Deltanental confuses
So thirsty for opaque gold
line after line makes us moan and whine
I want beer
What's this!?
Old white woman brings young black woman the crucial clue
We go tomorrow, goodbye sorrow
Hello HumanHighlight reel
NIQUE!!! recognizes our existance
Slam dunked a smile on our faces and saved the day.

As you can see, we got to meet the great Dominique Wilkins, who frankly appeared stoned on pills. I spotted him and then watched as he left his phone and ticket on a ticket counter. Nathan grabbed his gear and returned them to him. He thanked us and we took pictures of him while he wasn't looking. Awesome.

Will's daddy picked us up and we spent a relaxing night at his house drinkin a few beers and watching the Sun's get jobbed by Big Shot Bob. I must have masterbated six times in Will's brother's bed. Just kidding Will's brother. Only twice.

ANYWAY...the next entry is from the following day when we finally do make the trip. Unfortunatly I have to sit like 15 rows away from the thee amigos inbetween an old woman and an odd man. I got the shaft because I was making a last second pit stop before we boarded and thats when the trio figured out that one person was going to have to sit alone. That person was me. Despite this my spirits are high and the poem reflects this.

SO here's the scoop, I had to poop
But could not get it done
And all the while in line single file
my friends were having fun

A book betwixt two ends am I
Smashed for 7 long hours of flight
But this task would be my delight
If the drink cart would come and get me tight

Mojitos, screwdrivers, whiskey and rum
I hope that girl has herpes, Will, you're a bum.
Ireland, here I come.

I forgot to mention that Will was sitting next to a stunningly beautiful woman and (understandibly) refused to ask here if she minded switching seats with me. Nate and Robbie asked the people next to them but they refused. I wouldn't have asked her either, Wilmo.

At this point my enteries have one of two tones: drunk or hungover. See if you can determine which state I'm in while I write my first entry in Ireland from a pub on top of the Guinness brewery.

We tower above Irish people
So drunk and oblivious
I lost my camera
Beer.
This town smells of Butt soup
I'd eat some
Snap into a Guinness!!!
How can we walk home with so much beer in the gut?
Say a prayer for my cock.
Bye Bye.

Wow. WOW. Take a handful of jet lag, a pinch of exauhstion and a heap of stout, mix them together and try to write a poem. I dare you!! You won't because you're all too scared. Too scared it could never live up to that masterpiece above.

I'll write more later...it gets wierder.