Prepared to Fight, vol. 2

Aboard the plane to Italy, we slept and slept. Hunger set in, but we had nothing. Jet lag set in, but we had to push on. We got off the plane, drew papers from our crotch and upon approval, ventured into Rome. We figured one of us had printed out the location of the hostel. We figured one of us had read up on where the airport was in relation to Rome. We figured one of us knew if we should take a taxi, train, another plane, or just walk. 

As you probably could guess, we had no clue. We didn't even remember the name of the hostel. It was smothered in the clutter of my email inbox. We found our way to a train, and figured we could always start on the train and then guess from there. The only problem was that in order to buy a ticket, you had to first know the location you were heading to. We also didn't want to waste money by buying several fares. So, in typical pork-chop fashion, we guessed. Termini? Sure. Termini sounds...vaguely familiar. I think... 

Buying our tickets, now and on our way, the police (the ubiquitous caribinieri) came over asking for our passports. We quickly threw our hands down our pants, which planted quite a look on the officers' faces. But we were free to go, and so we did. To Rome Termini, we stumbled through the streets looking for Internet. We wearily and hesitantly sat down at a computer and found the necessary information. A hostel worker disguised as a fellow traveler came over and tried to get us to follow him to his hostel. He was quite insistent, and after we told him that we might check his place out a bit later (a good tip to get pushy hostel recruiters out of your hair), he informed us that he would 'like to take us there personally.' So he told us to find him right outside the door to the Internet cafe.

Fortunately, we found the info we needed to know (we thought), and managed to ditch the hostel recruiter out on the busy streets of Rome.

So we're good, right? We have our hostel location, its name, and a renewed sense of confidence in our McGuyver-like ingenuity. Wrong. We went to the spot and found the address conveniently missing from where it was supposed to be. So we ducked into a nearby hotel and asked the kind concierge where the address might be. 'Okay,' he said in broken English. 'You go out the door and go left...or right.' Great. Back to square negative twelve. 

We wandered up and down the street, left and right, until we realized the numbers go up or down differently depending on the side of the street you are on. This was to be our first lesson on Italian urban planning. We found the address, and a nice man let us in.

 We spent several minutes with a sassy Austrian (worth a completely separate blog post), who introduced us to the hostel rules, the city of Rome, and our room with the other two new roommates. We eagerly made our way for bed only to realize we had not eaten in several hours, we had no bathroom supplies, and it was only 7 PM. We needed to stay up if we wanted to beat the jet lag. So we went back out onto the streets. 

Finding a supermarket in the train station, we bought supplies and food. It was nice to have a meal. And we saved money by 'cooking,' which in our case was salad with focaccia bread and some meat and cheese. One surprise was blood orange-juice, recommended by Reinhardt's cousin, Sheela.

Collapsing on our beds, we fell asleep quickly. Our room was dark. Our bodies sank into the freshly made bed. Every thought of the next day's excitement was gone. All reminiscing had faded away. And just as REM started to sink in after 30 or so hours of no sleep, we were awoken by the most terrible, awful, horrifying, outrageous, impossibly thunderous, and awe inspiring snoring we had ever heard in our lives...

Prepared to Fight, vol. 1

Well, we can't say that the whole thing went off without a hitch—but then again, where's the fun without the difficulty? First off, we need to lay a few pork-chop-ground-rules before we go into the whole thing. 

First, we can afford this trip only because we insist on going cheap. The cheaper the better. If we were birds, we would go 'I'm not gonna pay THAT much for sausages!' To illustrate this point, witness our customary 'Whole Foods Buffet' run, during which we would lead co-workers around the aforementioned haute-cuisine grocery store filling ourselves with free samples, such as chips and guacamole, various cheeses, and curried orzo salad. We are not ashamed to admit that a good helping of free can cure anyone's blues. 

Second, we are not good planners. Yes, you read that correctly. See, there are many different types of planners. Some planners are 'future' planners. These are typically people who have what is known as 'an agenda.' They have the exact number of children they want already thought out, along with their names, time of birth, college (of their choice of course), cars, cloths, parties, you name it. 

Some planners are 'money' planners. They have a closely watched 'investment portfolio.' They have a habit of reading about the market in the morning, at lunch, and then again at dinner. These people also go to church and donate based on a percentage of their yearly income. Should they make more, they give more, should they make less, they give less. 

Some planners are 'nuclear fallout' planners. We at the pork-chop see these planners as kindred spirits, fortune tellers of a future time when the world will go through THE END OF ALL THINGS. This concepts has caused them to tell others the gospels of THE END, build underground homes connected by circuitous tunnels to other underground homes of like-minded folks, and, finally, provide for Bible salesmen everywhere. 

We at the pork-chop are none of these. When we say we can't plan, we mean it. We bought the plane tickets and then didn't look at them until the night before leaving (just barely printing out the information prior to hoping on the bus). This takes an incredible amount of patience and skill to maintain (and most of the time we don't recommend it). It also takes an incredible amount of bone-headedness. That, too, we must recommend against. That being said, we at the pork-chop love a good adventure. Having no plans, while being quite nerve-wracking and probably dangerous, can lead to some of the best adventuring out there.

Third, we are cautious on the side of ridiculous. We have luggage locks, a bike lock, master locks. Everything has a zipper with a flap over it. And for really personal stuff like our passports or insurance information, we have a little sack that we shove into our respective crotches. It is a rather impressive feat to keep personal documents by your personal parts all day long, even in the shower. We are not this way only in foreign places. We did not just decide to beef up security. We have a tendency to always be this way. 'Safety First' is not just a motto, but a theme song based on an 80's montage called 'Prepared to Fight, vol. 2.' 

Let's stop there, for now, and get on with it. I have already discussed the plane info. But we are really quite helpless. We decided to leave 4 hours early for the international flight, because 'we didn't want to chance it.' This translates to 'we were not prepared.'

Dublin and the Magic Dragon

First stop, Dublin. This mythical land filled with myths and mythology seemed a strange place to us. We found ourselves perplexed by the crowds of Irish gents and fems. We could already feel the glances of these passersby with that unmistakable 'there goes the Americans' regards toward us. In order to blend into this savage culture, we were forced to partake in their customs. Estranged to their ways, we did not always understand the appeal of their strange drinks, nor for that matter, their strange foods. But as they say, 'when in Rome.' And since we are not yet in Rome, I am not quite sure what I am trying to say. Anyway, we thought this vague yet eloquent recount might not be enough to persuade you in earnest of the bizarre, brief stint with this foreign land, so in typical pork-chop style, we have pictures.

We drank what the Irish drank.

We ate what the Irish ate.

And we did as the Irish have done since time immemorial.

Disclaimer
Before you go off saying to yourself, 'what is this about?', we would like to inform you we toured Dublin for under six hours and restricted our movement to the confines of the Dublin Airport. Some may say this equates to an under-informed opinion, but we at the pork-chop believe all opinions are under-informed.

Our Cast of Characters

We band of merry men at the Pork Chop Express spare no expense to bring you the most up to date information on all sorts of stuff. But in order to get the most out of this experience, you maybe should know a little bit more about this elite team of intrepid international adventurers.

Reinhardt Suarez is a world-renowned expert on the Chicago Bulls basketball team, circa 1999-2004. He also is a part-time backup singer for the hit Rock Band group, Half-Vampire Baby. He can see things no one else can see, knows things no one else can know--which means that he either has tapped into an other-dimensional font of wisdom, or he suffers from an as-yet undiagnosed mental ailment. He's hoping for the former. In addition to being a co-conspiritor on the maiden voyage of the Pork Chop Express, he is also a writer of young adult literature and a potential alternate in the 2016 Olympic janitorial team.

Wes Alexander's favorite hobby is carving small bars of soap out of bigger bars of soap. When he is not doing that, he is a musician and composer of the lowest order, and, of course, the other half of the newest phenomenon known as the Pork Chop Express. His friends and family have long suspected that he may be a cyborg from the future, judging from the dexterity he has with computers and his strange obsession with the film, 'Total Recall.'

Disclaimer
The views stated by The Pork Chop Express are solely based on the mostly unfounded views of the members making up said organization, and hereby have no bearing on said officiated 'blog' or other such internet-based or non-internet based mediums and communication methods/methodologies.

The Pork Chop Express was organized by a mysterious, shadowy benefactor how has assured us that our powers of insight and fortitude shall be used for good...mostly. In such cases of 'non-good standing' (understood and defined by benefactor in exhibit c) full refunds will be applied to viewers with an official appology non-pertaining to views of said organization. Have a good time!!

For full disclosure rules and regulations, send Form 34465b to the address listed at the bottom of the form (to be uploaded at a future date), along with a self-addressed, stamped envelope and a check for $12.87 (for postage and handling) made out to 'El Senor Wojehowski.'

What the Hell...

Hola! Welcome to the maiden voyage of The Pork Chop Express, a blog that catalogues the various travels of nefarious (but not too nefarious) people doing exciting (and stupid) things that should (and shouldn't) be tried by you, the humble Internet audience if you want to live lives full of awesome.

We at The Pork Chop Express wish to thank you for deciding to join us on our ride through Western Europe. We figure adventure is the rule of the day, but as it often turns out, "jet lag," "the runs," "angry villagers," "deportation," "the Huns," and former NBA "great," Ralph Sampson, may take precedence from time to time.

So sit back, relax, exercise the face muscles you use to make incredulous expressions of bliss and despair, and enjoy.