Grandpas and PAX

Hmmm…while it could be true that I attract only the worst of the worst crowd with my amazing get-the-fuck-away-from-me-aura in dive bars, I don’t go out of my way to be unfriendly in the finer establishments. In fact I might be drawing in the creepy old guys because I’m usually equal opportunity smiley and friendly in places where I don’t feel like some jerk would come up and grab my ass as a new means of pickup line. Buuuuut, it doesn’t mean I’m not a creepy old guy magnet, in fact I have reasons to believe that even on my death bed, I attract them.
Those of you that know me, you’ve probably have heard of the French grandpa story, those that don’t, please…pull up a chair and enjoy yourself at my expense.
So I’ve mentioned on and off that I went on a solo backpacking trip around Europe for six weeks about 3 years ago… Well, I had pretty much gone from country to country partying my little ass off. I had also been trying to ward off some dreadful bug which I’m pretty sure I had caught back in the office but was momentarily staved off during my must-hold-on-until-the-end crunch mentality. Then vacation hits and that bug was seeping in. Somehow running around Ibiza drunk during a lightning storm screaming, hooting and hollering with joy has brought this bug to backhand me full blast. I woke up hungover and dehydrated with a raging fever. I had a plane (Ibiza is very far from the coast of Barcelona for those that haven’t been, it took my overnight boat more than 9 hours to get there) to catch to get to Spain to get my ass to France to make my way towards Italy.
I slept for as long as I could but one thing that came to mind was the advice Brian gave me before I left. He warned me that I could get sick during my travels, he said if I do, just suck it up and keep moving because you won’t remember the sick part, but it would be crappy to get stuck in one place. It’s true, the human mind has an amazing way of conveniently forgetting all the minor “suck” parts in life and keeping the good memories. So I made my way to airport, got the next flight out. From Barcelona, I took the train to Nice, France. The train from Nice to Rome was not due for another 8-10 hours, so I had to hang out at the station during this time.
I wasn’t just a little sick at this point I had a fever that made me weak and shakey and the worst case of the chills. It was sunny that day but I wore two t-shirt, two long sleeve shirts and my jacket (basically all the warmest clothing I had), sweating my ass off but I felt so cold at the same time…I was downright miserable. They made the chairs there obviously single chairs so that people can’t sleep there but I tried to prop myself and nap then the train people told me I can’t prop myself up. Bastards. Then this French grandpa (I call him grandpa because he looks at least three times my age, no joke) came up to me and asked me in French how I was “Ça va?” I took a few years of high school French and all I can remember how to say is, “I have a headache. J’ai mal à la tête.” I try to get back to resting my eyes. The grandpa came back to me and told me I should get some hot drinks in the café next door, I’m shaking my head, but he insisted.
I’m thinking hot drink might not be so bad…the grandpa walked along side me. I ordered a hot chocolate while the grandpa got coffee. The grandpa spoke some rapid French to the waitress and paid for our drinks before I knew what was going on…I tried to pay him back but he would take it, so I thanked him. I was touched that this random stranger was being so nice.
We walked back to the train station and he asked how I was again. I was actually feeling quite a bit better, “Bonne.” He nodded, then grabbed my face and tried to lean in for a kiss. I screamed “NO!” and jerked away. Everyone around us was staring. The grandpa goes, “Ciao.” And walked off quickly. I didn’t even look to see where he went, I was in shock that someone could do that. I felt like I was on the brink of death, looked it - and this old guy was trying to make out with me in broad daylight in the middle of a fucking train station. If I wasn’t already sick as a dog, that would have made me feel sick as a dog.
Now while French grandpa was a scary experience, I had another nice Irish grandpa story. I wanted to hit this outdoor rave in Ireland called Planet Love…to get there they had a bus that would take us from Dublin to Antrim. So I partied and toured Dublin for a few days. While I was there, I was in the pub chatting with these guys and this grandpa came up to me and said a bunch of stuff in Gaelic that I couldn’t understand. The guys told me, the grandpa wanted to teach me to how to Irish dance. Who am I to say no to such a nice sweet old man? The Irish grandpa twirled me around and I was dead tired by the SECOND song. I could not keep up with this grandpa and I was there to go to a rave that was supposed to be at least 12 hours long.
So…did I take many pictures during my 6 weeks there? … …I don’t want to talk about. No really, it’s okay, I don’t want to talk about it. Yeah…I took zero pictures...okay…not only am I currently pissed off at myself, but I write myself a daily “Fuck you!” letter. So leave me alone already.

There will be no hiking this weekend because my sorry ass has volunteered to help at PAX…because apparently I enjoy babysitting other people’s kids for free.