And by "trip" I mean an actual journey. By train from Camborne in Cornwall to Bristol train station, pretty uneventful, fairly good time drinking a few of those nice 500ml cans of Stella and Kronenbourg and playing hangman with Amy to pass the time. We get to the train station, leave, get on the bus to Bristol airport (from which we were set to fly to Dublin), then a sniffer dog is brought onto the bus, sits down next to me, and next thing you know I'm in the station being told my rights and that if I just admit to having drugs on me it'll be a less serious offense.
"Do you have any drugs on you?"
"No."
"Do you use drugs?"
"I have smoked weed, yes."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"Have you washed your clothes since then?"
"No."
---
Apparently, that was why the dog "indicated" next to me. I'd been smoking shitloads of weed and hash in a smallish house and hadn't washed the jeans I was wearing. The cop wrote me a "has been searched" (or something to that effect) note and asked if I wanted a copy, I said I didn't need a souvenir, thanks. He then told me to make sure to wash my clothes next time. Nothing about not smoking illicit substances, mind you, just to wash my shit better. Gotta love England.
I actually think that they may have been tipped off to be on the lookout for someone roughly my age and/or dressed how I was, cuz a fellow 20-something-somewhat-scruffy-lookin' dude was also pulled off the bus, and he was carrying - like a quarter fuckin' pound of what looked like some very nice herb.
I knew I wasn't carrying anything, but it was still scary as fuck, cuz it wouldn't be unimaginable to think that somehow a chunk of this or that had gotten accidentally packed, so I was pretty damn relieved when they found nothing and were satisfied by the "smoky smell" of my stuff having been why the dog stopped.
Anyway, we finally got back on the bus and headed to the airport, hoping nothing else would go wrong and we could just have a nice quiet flight.
No such luck.
We get to the Ryanair counter to check in, and can't find the fucking tickets anywhere. Not such a biggie, they're e-tickets, but we also can't find our Police concert tickets that cost us £150, and that's a bitch. I had visions of a couple of Bristol police fucks going to see The Police on my dollar (or pound, even) and it was, let's say, a bit upsetting.
Oh well, maybe the tickets are still in our searched and rearranged bags somewhere, let's just get through fucking security and sit and have a pint and chill the fuck out. Silver chain off, phone and wallet and change out of my pocket, no I don't have any liquids, just solid deodorant etc, through the metal detector, no beeps, going well so far.
"Sir, is this your bag?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure you have no liquids? No cans, for example?"
"FUCK! THE BEER!"
---
Of course, I still had three of the half litre cans of beer in my bag, which I'd completely forgotten about in all the confusion of the last hour or so. The security people were cool about it though, it'd obviously just slipped my mind, and from then on we had a pretty uneventful journey to Dublin.
Edited Wed Jul 09 2008, 11:21pm
What was Ryanair like? Next time I'm in Europe, I think I might need to do a couple of day trips to weird lands with many hot females. Like Croatia, Slovakia, Hungary, or Czechland.
Ryanair is cheap and fairly cheerful, just one long commercial for all the shit they try to sell you, really. Definitely handy for euro-hopping, though. The one thing I'd recommend is to pack light, cuz they're fucking bastards about weight overages etc. It's like an extra 15 euros per kilo over.
BTW, a good friend of mine in London just went to Latvia for a stag night for a friend of his, and claims the women there are out of this fucking world. The way he phrased it was, "The whole time, I only saw two non-hot women, total."
