Destination: Bangalore, India

Well this freakin' blows. I was pretty jacked about going to India to enjoy different beer and liquorculture. My flight out of Chicago was delayed by almost two hours because of mechanical issues. As the plane was forty miles outside of Frankfurt, the captain announced that we would have to circle for about twenty minutes because of travel. My connecting flight to Bangalore was at 11:55AM.

The plane landed in Frankfurt at 11:20AM. I was the first person off the plane, and at the gate by 11:35AM. En route to the gate, I told a colleague who flew from Philly that my flight was behind schedule and that I would be cutting it close. She advised the Lufthansa flight crew and desk agents. Out of breath, I approached the desk.

Me: I'm here for the flight to Bangalore
German beotch: To where?
Me: Ummm. It's in India.
German beotch: Oh (stares at computer)
Me: That's the big-ass plane right behind you.
German beotch: The doors have been closed. You'll have to go to the transfer desk upstairs and get rebooked.
Me: I just got an SMS from someone who's on the big-ass plane right behind you. There are plenty of seats available. Please let me on.
(Crowd assembles behind me)
German beotch: (Goes off on some rant in half German/half English for fifteen minutes - in this time, the fifteen of us who were on the Chicago flight could have easily found seats on the plane)
Crowd: Crucify her! Give us Barabbas!

OK. That last part didn't happen. I just wanted to prove that I did pay attention at Mass the past few weeks. But really, if I ever start a band, I'm going to name it Barabbas. How sweet would it be to hear crowds scream, "Give us Barabbas! Release Barabbas!"

Yeah, I'm drunk right now - on a flight to Delhi that is set to arrive at midnight. Then I jump on another flight and arrive in Bangalore at 7AM. That's thirty-six hours of travel for yours truly. I already feel like my body has been simmering in a pan full of curry. In twelve more hours, it's gonna be nasty. You know those hot washcloths they hand out before meals? The next time I'm handed one, I'm heading straight to the bathroom to cleanse the festering undercarraige. The chick in 10B knows what I'm talking about. Slut.

Supposedly there is Internet access on this flight - so I might be able to post this incoherent rambling and jump on FTP after dinner. We'll see. I do know that the USB port does work. For the next eight hours I'll have a fully charged iPod. Hurray for fucking show tunes!

~

OK, Internet no workie. I'll just keep typikng into notepad until I pass out (again). But the good news is that it took less than 2 minutes answer my call.

~

Two things:
Am I twisted for finding this sign, in front of a flight to India, pretty damn amusing? I was waiting for a confused woman to turn hers in...


Is my plane at risk for getting shot down? Flying this close to Tehran? I didn't sign up for this.


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How can I sleep when provided with a bottomless glass of port?

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The guy sitting across the aisle from me realized that he's from the same hometown as the dude to my left. It's pretty annoying. They should just make out now and get it over with.

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Looks like we made it over Tehran. I now apologize for all the times that I booed the Iron Sheik. Nicolai Volkov, on the other hand, is still a prick. Same with Ivan and Nikita Koloff.

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I just called the flight attendant over again. This time, just barely over a minute to arrive. She's good. I wonder if we can beat this! (I asked for another pillow, which I plan on using to suffocate the chatty douchebag to my left)

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I just got back from the bathroom. And yes, I did wash my hands. On the stroll back, I saw what appeared to be the Indian Katie Holmes. Seat 10E. Not. Too. Shabby. "Hey - have your parents found you a husband yet?"

The bathroom has a changing table - can't believe that I notice such things now.

And why didn't one of the flight attendants point out that my lips were covered with a purple film? Apparently it's too difficult to say, "Sir, it looks like you just went down on Smurfette."

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Why must all flights include music from that douchebag John Mayer???? Why Vishnu, why???????

~

A little dessert after some sort of curry creation.

I was multi-tasking, so didn't do that well.

  

I'm at the Copenhagen airport four hours early. Sitting at the office, nursing a hangover, had me in a horrible mood. So I skipped out a few hours ahead of schedule.

I was greeted at the airport lounge with self-serve Carlsberg taps. Hangover about to be cured...



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Last night I met Lene, the intern from previous post who wanted to gamble, and four of her friends around 6pm for dinner. The photo doesn't do the chick on the right much justice. She's much cuter than in the pic, and it doesn't show how disproportioned (in a good way) her breasts are to the rest of her body her great big boobies.

We consumed shot after shot of Fisherman's - a liquor that tastes just like Fisherman's Friend cough drops. One of the ladies left (in the pic, it's the chick on the left). Then her roommate told a story from last weekend. She apparently walked into their living room at 3am and found the gal giving a guy, who she had met three hours earlier) a hummer.

I was tempted to leave the bar and chase her down.

I'm kidding. Really, I am.

~

We didn't make it out to the casino. But don't fret. We'll have another opportunity to do it. I'm back here in July.

I've been taking public transportation to O'Hare. One bus, one train, and thirty-five minutes later I'm at the airport. The el tracks are ancient - the Chicago Transit Authority is updating several tracks, resulting in closed stations and longer transit times (depending on the route). There is one crickety stretch on the Blue line between Montrose and Jefferson Park whose vibrations feel fantastic on the junk. It's no wonder that some people ride the train all day. For $2 the ride provides almost the same bang for the buck as a Thai hooker.

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Apricot IPA is sitting in secondary fermentation right now.

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I'm in Copenhagen. Monday night I sipped scotch and smoked Cohibas at the hotel bar with three guys from the firm (1 Swiss, 1 Spaniard, 1 Brit). Two hours into the festivities, the Spaniard dropped the "N" word.
Me: I think you'd love Don Imus
Spaniard: Who?
Me: Nevermind

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I'm going to propose a new reality show to Mark Burnett - "Surivor: European Conference Room." There are windows on two walls in our meeting room. By 2pm every day, it turns into a sauna. Contributing to the challenge are an Italian and three Frenchmen who probably haven't showered all week. Let's see Richard Hatch win this one...


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In our meetings, there is a Russian attorney who was a complete douchebag. He would argue, just to argue. He showed also showed a lot of disrespect for his colleagues. Especially me.

We had a happy hour, and he challenged me to a game of pool, likely an attempt to avenge Drago's loss to Rocky. As he racked the balls I muttered "I must break you." He stared me down and I let loose a scream as I broke the racked balls.

I demolished him in three consecutive games.

I am not human.

~

Last night the group went to see a live band at a blues bar. They were fantastic, and I had a great time.

Until a Frenchie said, "This band is good despite not having a (the N word)."

Maybe Bill O'Reilly is right about rap music.

~

At dinner last night I mentioned that I planned on going to the casino to gamble it up.

Out of nowhere, a tall, gorgeous, blonde gal said "I'm going with you! But first you're going with my friends and me to a birthday party."

The Russian was quite smitten with her. So even if plans fall through, I managed to tilt a guy twice in one night.

Me + four Danish ladies in their early twenties = SKOL!

~

Whiskyfest report will be up when I return to the US.

...for Whisky. Here's what I'm doing.

Holy crap are my arms sore. The other day I received immunizations for the upcoming trip to India: Typhoid, Yellow Fever, Dyptheria, Josette Germs, Polio, Hepatitis A, athlete's foot, the plague, and Hepatitis B. (Josette Germs was an awful game that kids in grade school used to play, to tease one of our classmates. Poor girl. Poor, repulsive, girl.)

The good news is, that once my arms have recovered, I should also start to develop super powers. Watch out ladies. I'm hoping for x-ray vision.

The (hot) nurse explained that the hepatitis vaccines are supposed to last a lifetime:
Nurse: This will present hepatitis B and consequences like liver cancer
Me: Does that mean I can continue to drink like a fish?
Nurse: That's not a good idea.
Me: Damn.
Nurse: You're not really that high risk for it, especially after the vaccination.
Me: Oh yeah?
Nurse: People who should be concerned are IV drug users and those who have sex with prostitutes.
Me: Do you hand out free condoms?
Nurse: (silence)
Nurse: Yes. (hands me a six pack of MAGNUMS)

Every Monday the wife and I watch "How I Met Your Mother." Since I was out of town last week, I decided to dedicate my evening to Barney, the character portrayed by the (not surprisingly gay) Neil Patrick Harris. I "suited up" and wore a gray Hugo Boss suit and striped Thomas Pink shirt to the office - and during the evening's festivities.

A partner from the firm "forced" me to go to Delilah's Den in downtown Philly. I protested and protested and finally caved. I even let a girl or two give me a dance or nine. One tall, dark, beautiful, creature named Esmaralda approached me. She was Brazilian. She started with the standard dancing and asked if I was interested in the champagne room. I declined (really, I did) and she said she knew how to change my mind.

Next think I know, her mouth was wrapped, through my suit pants, around my junk. All this for the low, low, price of $20. She finished the dance (and not me), and I managed to keep myself out of the champagne room.

I'm very glad I didn't wear jeans that evening - I'm wearing that suit again today. The scent of strawberry lotion still lingers on the fabric and the thoughts of Esmaralda's grip on my mind. I think I'm going to rape the janitor.

He's Brazilian.

I just tried a bottle of the raspberry stout that I recently bottled. Not too shabby. Even the wife enjoyed it - she typically likes her men dark, but not her beer. Three more weeks to bottle condition, and I'm going to have a good spring/summer treat.

In a week or so I'd like to make a summer brew. This is where I could use some help. Which of the following should I make?

A. Apricot IPA
B. Cream Ale
C. Honey Wheat
D. Lemon Coriandor Weiss

I am, of course, open to other suggestions.