August 12th, 2017by LittleBead

My arms hurt from dragging the two pieces of luggage, my head hurts from the heat and being awake for such a long time. Now, let’s calculate. 2 hours on the train in Italy (because it was late), then the urban train that took way too long to arrive at the airport station, 30 minutes shall we count for that. Now, 1.5 hour of being sweetly unaware that the plane was going to be late by 5 hours. Add +2 hours for the flight. Mhm, let’s continue… then, at the airport in Poland, approximately 1 hour of waiting for the baggage to arrive… 30 minutes inside the car of my friend, because he was so nice to pick me up at ~4:30 a.m. Then, a short nap at his apt, and it turned out that my train is going to be late by 3 hours – 1.5 hour of waiting, then I arrived at 6 p.m. in Warsaw. 6 hours at a train, that’s ridiculous. Take 1:15 h of waiting for another train to my town and 40 minutes on it. Nearly 21 hours spent in travel. Excuse me, can somebody enlighten me who I am, because I myself am not sure anymore? Somebody? Anybody? Do I need to mention that the air conditioning was broken at that long-distance train when it was 38C degrees (about 100F for my Celsius-negative friends), and that Polish onions didn’t even let me out of that fucking diabolic machine without pushing me inside? I just politely asked at my final station, ‘before entering, give me 10 seconds so that I can pick the other great piece of luggage because it’s screwingly heavy and I have placed it 2 metres from the entrance, jus’ 10 sec please?’, but the fuckers didn’t care. They just started entering, and when I just grabbed the bag, they started pushing me inside the train. I must say, I yelled. And they were like, ‘oh, ah’. But I am not going to let anyone abuse me like that anymore. There were some ‘shut-ups’ sent from my side with a very decided and martial voice, and believe me that but that baggage weighing approx. 15 kg (again, 33 lb for my kilogramme-negative folks outta here) that was horribly difficult for me, the weakling, to handle, I would have sent a considerable number of middle-ups here and there. Polish. Fucking. Onions. From. Warsaw. I just love my country, you know? I fucking love it. You ask a guy to help you take this suitcase, because maybe BUT JUST MAYBE you didn’t invest enough skill points into physical strength and now you’re fucking regretting putting everything into precision and wits (but you must say, we’d not have had that wonderful PERFECT b-day cake 2 months ago if not my pro precision abilities, ha!), and he looks at you like you’ve just spilled a bottle of San Pelegrino. Don’t get the reference? Oh, here’s another one (however, I can’t imagine anything worse than that event with San Pelegrino, doh): like someone just asked you if they can take your dignity away, put it in a pair of pink panties, make it dance to the public, and then from the money collected kill your kitty with the ‘N’ a part of you want so badly and decorate your house with its guts, meanwhile smiling and repeating ‘why so serious?’. (Leeeet’s hope that you’re not eating anything now.)

Oh yeah. I love being straightforward. Feels so… rewarding, you know?

I just wrote a complaint to that c-u-n-t-like low-cost flight operator. The first version maaaay have sounded like, ‘SCREW YOU SCREW YOU SO MUCH I HATE YOU YOU FUCKING IDIOTS WHO CAN’T EVEN SEND A PROPER MESSAGE ABOUT THE DELAY’. Put the word ‘kurwa’ somewhere, yep, it conveys that delicate feeling of hatred you can’t find in English. Delightful, mmm. Now, now, give me the 250 euro I am entitled to. They basically fucking trapped me and other people at the airport, with shops closed, nothing to drink, no food. And buy yourself something for 4 euro, when everything is over that and no shop looming at the horizon. Thanks God to my ‘sociability’ skill unlocking in stressful situations, I got new mates and we even drank some of their good wine of Salento. (Google no more, Salento si trova in the very end of the heel of the Italian shoe peninsula, making it sound easy to understand.) After drinking, my brains decided to give some inspiring lectures to the peasantry, so that by the end of our little alco-journey everyone was convinced that I am going to be at least a well-know scientist and, who knows, maybe even a Prime Minister? (Every kid knows that being a President here is lame, too many parentheses, damn me.)

Oh, but let’s put the rest in another post, so many things to say, to hate even more, to destroy and shatter, including hopes and dreams.

Goin’ to write a post on creeps that were watching me *dramatic voice* in the city of pedestrian murderers. That just creeped me out. Not going to put my Italian SIM card anymore in my phone.

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