This last episode of my trip was not documented by email like the others. It was about three weeks before leaving, and I just didn't seem to find the time to get to the lab and send a brief message. For this reason I've taken a long time to release this chapter - I wanted to make sure I documented everything that happened these last weeks.

If you want to skip the email, you can go straight to the Tips and Gallery section.

Party Time

Return date: July 17, 1994

Marc, Andi, and I had been planning on visiting Frankfurt for a while. Andi kept telling us about the great clubs and parties he used to go to when he lived with his parents in Liederbach, and Marc didn't want me to leave Germany without that experience. Finally, about 3 weeks before my departure date, we arranged to go to Frankfurt and shake it down.

We took Andi's car, and had everything arranged to stay at one of his friend's place. I never met this guy because he was out of town that weekend. We arrived, dropped our stuff and headed to Andi's parents'. They were the coolest people to us - basically treated us like kings - stuffed us, pampered us, you name it. After hanging out there for a bit (and watching the Germany lose in the World Cup Playoffs), we decided to hit the nightlife.

The first night we went and met some of Andi's friends at a small pub. We have Apple wine (Apfel wine) which was pretty good. There was a band playing there so we ended hanging out for a couple of hours. Here I caught my initial buzz. Then we headed to this HUGE club that is very popular in Frankfurt. Unfortunately, I can't remember the name for the life of me - even thought this place had several bars, two or three huge dance floors, the music was just your traditional mainstream techno. e.g: 2 Unlimited and all the other bands formed by a male dj, and a female hot-looking lead singer singing something about 'moving it'. Whatever! I lost my buzz...

Anyways, nice place, but bad music.. The crowd was cool, though.

The next day we headed into the city and looked around.. we saw some pretty neat buildings, houses, etc... then we headed downtown - this was Frankfurt's 200th anniversary weekend (hell of a coincidence for me to be there), so there was a hell of a street party with lots of street vendors, bands, food, etc, etc.. Basically I was praying not to get lost! We were supposed to meet Silke, but that never happened. We ended up stopping by a few record stores to glance at techno stuff - it was pretty sweet.

Andi had heard of some outdoors party happening this night, so we bolted over there like it was our job.. it took us a few u-turns to find it.. It was a pretty cool setup: a fence of trees closed the place.. it was on a grass field - right in the middle of it.. as bad things always happen, we walked up to the door and the cops showed up.. turns out some neighbor had been complaining the music was too loud.. so the guys in charge told the cops they would turn it down.. now this was funny: I guess on of the guys thought the cops were gone, and he got on the mic and started putting them down saying yeah, the cops just showed up and told us to turn it down.. we'll show those idiots!

uhhh.. they were standing right next to us... Needless to say, we left the place..

We headed to the Dorian Grey, a club located in the Frankfurt Airport.. one word:

A W E S O M E

This place redefined the concept of nightclubs: 2 dance floors, coffee house, bars, video room, and even a small store to buy clothes, etc..! of course, cover charge was 16DM, but it was worth every bit. Now, we got there around 12, but the good music was not supposed to start until about 2.. so we had some coffee and chatted for a while.. we needed the caffeine!

At around 2am, Mark Spoon started dj-ing, and this place rocked the house! I must have danced for 3 hours straight! It was the best set of techno/trance I've ever heard! we must have left around 7 am.. good quality!

We slept until about noon, and headed (again) to Andi's.. we were fed (again), and headed back to Aachen.

My last week was a nightmare: I was getting all my stuff ready to head back home, trying to hang out with everyone one last time, and watching my finances: three and a half months in Europe had sunk my Visa into the pit of despair. I was also trying to find a way to actually GET home because I wasn't flying back as originally intended.

You're probably wondering what this is all about. Well, here goes: I purchased my ticket to Europe through my ex-girlfriend's father who is a pilot for Continental. (This is why I got the good treatment on the way there). While I was in Europe, his position changed, so he was no longer doing international flights, and the ticket I had required that I fly with him or an immediate family member. At this point, I had been talking to Christy about finding a way to get me home, so she decided to come and get me. (WHAT?)

She gave me the option of either flying from somewhere near Aachen, or picking a city that I had not been to before, and flying from there. Common decency would say to do the latter and extend my trip a couple more days.

So we agreed on London. I was to leave on July 14, get us accommodations, and then meet her at Gatwick Airport on the 15th. I checked out my options on getting there: driving was out of the question (chunnel was too expensive, and so was getting your car across by ferry). Flying was also outrageous, considering I would have to drive to Düsseldorf. Finally, I got a deal from the local Reisebüro for about $130 - train to Oostende, Belgium, ferry to Dover, catch a bus to the train station, and head to London. Not bad!

My last night Marc, Andi, Sasha, and some other people took me out to the market for a last visit - going away party, if you can call it that. We all sat down and chatted and what not, and it was then that I ran into Dani, who I'd been trying to go and see at the Luisen for a while to say bye. I couldn't believe my luck. She sat down with us and told me she was moving to Berlin soon. It was nice seeing her one last time. I still keep in touch and ask her to come visit the US - I even promised I'd take care of her if her foot gets infected - haha!

My departure day was rainy - for a change. Marc and I ended up grabbing a bus to the HaupBanhoff - lots of fun with all the luggage plus souvenirs. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally said goodbyes, and I boarded my train. The ride was nice and relaxing - weather cleared up a bit. I met a dutch girl and we chatted for quite a while. Turned out she had been in the US for about 3 years, and wanted to go back. Nothing new. I arrived at Oostende and got my pass to board the ferry to Dover. This was pretty cool. The ride actually took about 2 hours, but we went through a time change so I arrived there less than an hour after departing Belgium.

My worst experiences with leaving and entering a country were in England - once in Dover I took a bus to the train station. The ride to London took about 2 hours longer than expected because the train had some mechanical problems and we were actually STOPPED for light years. In this train I met an american couple who had reservations in one of the hostels and gave me some nice info about it. They even offered to show me where it was located - cool.. I was set!

Once in London I started to hate life profusely. I was pulling 2 suitcases on a tiny dolly - which turned out more of a pain than a convenience for I had to take the suitcases off to get it through the damn subway ticket machines, carry it over, and put it all back together while the nice american couple was waiting for me.

Once out of the subway system, we walked and walked - I noticed how cool it was to see the cars drive on the opposite side of the street, and the nice BIG words on the street telling you to LOOK RIGHT before crossing. Of course, it didn't seem humorous at the time with all my damn luggage. We walked for about 30 minutes until we finally reached the hostel which, with my luck, was at the top of a hill that resembled Mt. Everest... and so up I went with my damn dolly, my backpack, and the rest of my crap.. By the time we enter it I'm sweating like a beast.. I get to the desk, inquire about a room only to find out they were booked. The nice lady at the counter proceeded to call nearby hostels, and they were all booked as well, so I was about to panic when she found one which was not of as high quality, but with the way I was feeling, a cow's belly would have seemed comforting enough to sleep under.

She gave me directions which to this day remain stuck in some dark corner of my brain: go down the hill (Mt. Everest), make a left, then another left and it'll be on the left side of the road. So I carried my sweaty self along with my freaking dolly, backpack, and the rest of my crap DOWN Mt. Everest, proceeded to make a left, another left, and the damn hostel was NOWHERE in sight! Ok.. so I ask around, and nobody knows where the hell this damn hostel is! So fortunately I have the piece of paper with the phone number of the hostel, but the nearest phone is down at the bottom of Mt. Everest. So after a right, and another right, I call the guy and after explaining to him that I couldn't find the place and giving him my current whereabouts he tells me that I was supposed to go down THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DAMN HILL!!!!!!

D A M M I T ! ! ! !

So here I go, stinking like rotten hippopotamus with lightning blasting out my ears, UP Mt. Everest - AGAIN -, and DOWN the other side, with my fucking dolly, my backpack, and the rest of my shit, and after 2 lefts I finally get to the damn place. And when that lady had said Not as high quality, she meant it: sharing the room with 7 other guys was not a problem - I expected that out of hostels - but when I went to take a shower to wash my greasy self, they looked like they hadn't been cleaned since the XII century. So, after a few nice tricks and acrobatic stunts to keep the majority of my body from touching the walls, I proceeded to hit the bed like it was my job.

Next morning I was to leave for Gatwick at around 6:30. In order to get there I was to take the subway back to Victoria station (how could I forget) and take the Gatwick Express - not the cheapest of transportations, mind you - which gets you to the airport in under one hour. Once there, I looked for Christy, and it turned out she didn't arrive in the plane I was told. -- My luck was spreading globally -- So with a few phone calls back home I find out the people there are as clueless as I am (if not worse) of the whereabouts of Christy. It finally came up that she had missed her plane, and had to take a different flight from Orlando to HOUSTON, and then a connecting flight to London - talk about travel miles. Two hours later she finally arrived.. It was somewhat odd that the first person I see from back home since my trip to Barcelona was my ex. Putting awkwardness aside, we headed back to town, and to the hostel. After reserving her room, we decide to start taking advantage of our visit right away, so we buy a 10-trip Tube pass to share, and start looking for the oh-so-famous London Bridge.

Well, if you're as ignorant as we were about London tourism, London Bridge is not what you want to see: it is plain, boring, and ugly. Nothing special. Tower Bridge is the one you want to check out! We stopped by the Thames to take some pictures, and followed it aimlessly just to see where we ended. On the way we stopped by the needle, and finally to grab a bite to eat. We headed down to Picadilly, went by Planet Hollywood - which was PACKED - and headed back to the hostel. There we met Yan, a cool guy from Switzerland and along with some other people we decided to hit some local bars. There was a nearby tavern where we actually ended up hanging out most of the night drinking some beer with black carrot syrup. Now, this was an interesting thing - we wondered just what the hell black carrots where, so after a few drinks we headed for a local grocery store and raided the veggie section looking for these contraptions. Turns out it is what is known in the US as red cabbage, which still left us a bit uneasy about pouring it in beer, but nevertheless everything deserves a first try, I always say, so on we went enjoying the party. Along with an oriental guy, whose name I can't remember, we headed downtown for a stroll and ended up having some ice cream and almost missing the last bus back to the hostel.

The next day we were up and early to see more of London. We saw St. Paul's Cathedral, the changing of the guard which turned out to be annoying because it draws a ridiculous number of stupid tourists (like yours truly) in front of the palace trying to get pictures and what not. Well, pretty much it comes down to if you don't find a way up front of the crowd, you are not going to see a thing.. and to make matters worse, it is not a fast event. We gave up after about 45 minutes, and headed for other cool places like Big Ben, which is mighty impressive, and Tower of London. Now this place was great! I somehow managed to get student discount with my UF id, and in we went. A Beefeater leads you into a really cool, humorous, but not long enough tour of the place with some brief history and tales of how many people got killed here, and what each different building is for. Afterwards you are allowed to roam freely and admire the Queen's Jewels, all kinds of armament, and the majority of the halls.

The next day we were to head back to the US, so that night we partied some more with Yan and the crowd from the hostel. It's interesting that in England all bars close at 11 pm - it's the law. I thought americans were anal with 2am - geez... We also did a little shopping - found some awesome irish coffee chocolate bars! we definitely piled up on junk food for the trip.

Now, remember me mumbling something about having a hard time entering England? Well, here's what happened on the way out: We headed to the subway station with just 3 pounds (bad mistake) which was just enough to buy 2 tickets to Victoria Station. Yan came with us because he had to go to Victoria also to exchange some money. So I insert my money, get my ticket, and then insert Christy's money and the machine DIES.

Out of Service

Ok.. so we look for the service people.. but remember it's like 7am and there's only one guy who looked like he'd never taken apart a Lego set, and he tells us we just have to wait until the technician gets there at 10 am.. uh.. buddy.. sorry to break the news, but we're supposed to be crossing the ATLANTIC at 10am!!! We need to PURCHASE another ticket.. being the helpful individual he seemed, he informed us that the only way we could get our money back would be for the technician to open the machine - at TEN IN THE MORNING! Yan then jumps in the nearest phonebook, puts on his superhero suit and offers to give us the money to buy the ticket.. of course, we're talking about a pound twenty, but at the time it seemed like he was offering his liver for a transplant.

So we get to Victoria Station, say our goodbyes to Yan, thank him eternally, and purchase our Gatwick Express tickets. We arrive at the airport about 15 minutes before our departure time - no one is boarding the plane anymore.. we find the Continental desk, explain to the lady what's going on, and they treat us like we were trying to smuggle drugs and heavy artillery. our bags were searched profusely - we have less than 10 minutes to board, mind you - and finally they let us head for the gate.. We ran like wild monkeys, got to the gate, and there was NOBODY there... ok.. I look outside and there's a plane, but from a different airline, so I ask the lady at the gate, and she says there must be some mistake.. she calls up and, sure enough, they've been telling everyone to go to the wrong gate.. so they send us and some other people looking for the flight (good thing - we weren't the only ones) to this waiting area until things are cleared up.. finally, they assign us to the correct gate only to get there and find out that our plane is having technical problems and so we'll be waiting for a bit.. good grief... To make things worse, at this time we have to present our passports, and it just happens that Christy has managed to LOSE hers somewhere in between the shuffle from the previous gate.. so here I go, running back to retrace all our steps, but it is nowhere to be found.. so now we have managed to put the entire staff in search for Christy's passport calling on portable radios and what not.. they tell us to just sit at the gate and wait.. so around 11am (so much for being across the Atlantic at 10) they finally find the damn passport, but our plane is nowhere near taking off the ground..

Finally we relaxed a bit knowing all we could do was wait.. we were served some sandwiches, and eventually they gave us some credits to go to the shops and spend them.. at this time we met this guy Jeff, who was to attend UF in the fall, and his sister.. we ended up hitting a bar with them and getting about six drinks to hopefully relax and forget all this crap that was happening to us.

The flight finally took off around 2pm.. I didn't fly first class this time, but I really didn't care.. I just wanted to get the hell away from there. About 15 minutes after leaving, the pilot announces that we might be able to make it in Newark in time for our connecting flights.. Oh, shit!.. Christy checks the schedules, and the last flight to Orlando leaves around 8pm.. sure enough, we arrive at Newark at 8:10.. so everyone who missed their connecting flights is now being arranged for accommodations, complements of Continental, of course.. EXCEPT US!!! because everything else seemed to be going wrong, and we have these special passes because Christy is a family member of a Continental pilot.. AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGHhhhHHHHHHHH!!!!

Jeff and his family offered to let us sleep in their room, but Christy got this really stubborn attitude and refused to go anywhere.. so there I was.. stuck because I HAVE TO fly with her! I thanked Jeff for his help and got his address and number in Gainesville while Christy called her mom to tell her what's going on.. So we end up staying the night in the damn airport, sleeping on the cold, hard, and damn uncomfortable floor.. I was hating human existence at this point.. The first flight to Orlando is not direct, so we pass on it and wait for the next.. at this time we decide to check our bags in and head for the gate.. when time comes, we present our tickets, and we're about to get on when the lady says (I was 5 fucking feet from the gate.. FIVE!) I can't board it because I'm wearing shorts, and I should be wearing business attire.. Lady, you're messing with the wrong rhubarb! what the fuck? I flew all the way from London wearing the same clothes.. I'm just going to Orlando now! and in case you haven't noticed, my luggage is ALREADY ON THIS PLANE!! the other girls at the desk tell us they couldn't believe she wouldn't let us get on the plane, so they send us two gates down, where there's another flight leaving to Orlando about 15 minutes later, but when we get there, the woman in charge starts questioning us about why we're there.. so we tell her we were just sent from the other gate, and she gets all suspicious and says we're lying, and I lose my temper, so she warns us she's gonna call security..

You're not going to believe this, but they would not let me get on the plane.. they said we had to go and buy a pair of pants.. holy shit.. guess what.. out of all the stores in Newark International, NONE have a damn pair of pants for sale!!! you can find shorts, thongs, you name it.. but NO PANTS! so what do we have to do? head to downtown Newark, the shit capital of the world to buy pants so I can get to Orlando.. of course, it was raining like it was it's job, and after asking 30 people which is the correct bus to downtown we finally get there.. but remember, it is about 8:30am, so there are NO OPEN STORES YET!! finally, we walk around long enough where we find El Cheapo discount clothes where I spend $14 on a pair of jeans, and we head back to Newark Int'l to thank the all-mighty bitch for this adventure.. we finally board the new flight, over 30 hours after leaving the hostel in London, and make it home, sweet, home..

Tips

• If you're not much of a beer drinker, get used to it. Mixed drinks can cost a bundle depending on the city: I paid $7 for a margarita in Aachen and $15 for a frozen daiquiri in Frankfurt. Beer is cheap, costing between 2-5DM.
• Crossing the Channel is something you definitely need to research. There's many companies that offer different ways to get you across - ferry, hovercraft. Prices vary quite a bit. The best deal I found was through the travel agency which sold me my train ticket from Aachen to London, including the ferry across for under $170.

Photo Gallery

• Walking around we found this cool looking house near Frankfurt.
  
• In front of the Tower Bridge.
• The changing of the guard (or what we could see of it).
• Christy outside of Buckingham Palace.
• We stop for a picture by St. Paul's Cathedral.
• Chris by Big Ben.
• Hanging out with Yan at a nearby tavern.
• Going up the needle.
• Outside the Tower of London.