woo, I thought I didn't have a story for this
but I've just remembered one

Now, it wasn't strictly terrible, although my companions and I may have made it so for others...

A few years back I went to Roskilde Festival in Denmark. To describe it I would say that it is like the festivals in this country were before they were full of cunts. and when new music was still good.

The first time I went (other than my friends) I only heard 2 other English people. That's what you want on holiday, plus other benefits such as seeing Iron Maiden and Metallica on the same day, as well as Rammstein, Chilli Peppers, Massive Attack...the list goes on.

We spent 5 days stoned out of our gourds on fantastic weed, and high on the strongest of mushrooms. A fantastic time was had by all.

The journey back home however was a nightmare.

The trains from the festival to Roskilde itself, then to Copenhagen were rammed with stinky festival goers such as ourselves. This didn't matter so much as there was a shared stupor and rather a ringing in the ears.

In the name of cheap flights we had secured entry to Denmark via Sweden and Malmo airport. This meant a bus over the bridges and through the tunnels etc.

The bus and train rides themselves were fine, everything you'd expect from the efficient parts of Europe, but there was a hint of sniffer dog at border control. This caused a few hearts to pound, but nothing came of it. another relief.

At this point you may be wondering to yourselves where the trauma is.

It's here.

We arrived at Malmo airport to find that we now had 26 hours to wait for our flight.

Everyone was completely skint. We were students, and had spent every last cent on drugs at the festival. We were all in the middle of a massive comedown from a week long binge and had to wait in a small airport.

For 26 Hours....

Everyone was too paranoid to sneak away and finish off our smuggled stashes. We had no money for food. The only saving grace was the fact that there was a shower in the airport free to use. (The best shower ever)

It was during this mammoth stint that I had my unfortunate hackysack accident, which has led (in similar fashion to my terrible juggling accident) to me never playing hackysack since...

The flight home was bearable, didn't stick in the memory much.

The train ride from Stanstead to Cardiff went by in a horrible noisy blur but I breathed a sigh of relief to get in a taxi at Cardiff station with the very last scrapings of money to find it driven by a large rasta, blaring reggae and with a huge block of hash on the dash board.

It was good to be home.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 30 May 2008, 13:26, Reply)