The Power of Marketing

My boss spent time in Ethiopia, where some of the citizens gave themselves English names, in addition to their ethnic birth names. However, due to the fact that English was not their first language, they had trouble distinguishing between names for people, and names for things.

My boss met a woman who introduced herself by saying, "Hi, you can call me Pepsi!"

I think she'd get along quite well with the little girl named Diot Coke.

Road Trip

My fiance and I are taking a trip this weekend to visit his parents, and we've decided that we will not be stopping in a particular place along the way.

On a past visit we used the gas station bathroom in a very conservative prison town in the middle of nowhere.

As I stood outside the bathroom waiting, I did not know that inside the mens' room my fiance was becoming increasingly disturbed by the racist graffiti inside. At first he thought it was funny that the little pictures of the KKK looked like Doritos chips, then he realized, "OMG. Snark is the only non-white person in this town, and she's standing outside alone in a bright red dress, probably smiling at people and looking innocent!"

He hurried out of the bathroom and told me, "Get in the car!"

"What?"

"Get in the car I'll tell you later!"

Two tough-looking men with bald heads stared at us as he ushered me into the car. Once inside he told us why we will never go back.

Straight Right Through Like a Vindaloo

On my trip to Europe last summer, I had a tour guide who reminded us he liked to be called "English," not British." He was a wonderful guide, and had various fond phrases he repeated. I'm not sure whether they were particular to him, or to the English, but here are a few of my favorites:

"useful as a eunuch in a brothel"

"crumbly old coffin dodgers" (in reference to the elderly tour group he led before ours)

"hot enough to boil a monkey's bum"

"love of your life and fire of your loins"

"The English have their buttocks so firmly clenched you can't slide a credit card through."

He suggested we could pick up a hot young Londoner by saying "Hellllloooo. Ding dong! You're not wrong" with an Austin Powers-like growl.

He also informed us that he's rather shocked at how Americans use the word "shag" so casually. When his local movie theater showed "The Spy Who Shagged Me" they had to print "The Spy Who ****ed Me."

While passing out Metro or museum tickets, the tour guide would shout like an auctioneer or carnival barker. "Come one come all, get them while they're hot! Hurry hurry hurry! Come straight through like a vindaloo!"

It took me a few moments to realize he was making a diarrhea joke.

He also taught us rhyming slang. "Britneys" are beers, since they rhyme with Spears. "China" (plate) is a substitute for "mate."

The tour guide was tickled pink when I greeted him one morning with "Wotcha Joel! Thanks for the Britneys me old china!"

(By the way, there were both sodas and beers for sale on the tour bus. When the tour guide told us this he said, "Welcome to Europe!" No one bought them, but we were still amused that it was possible).

Blue Man Group Shenanigans

Earlier in the year I was invited to see the Blue Man Group's How to Be a Megastar show. (If you haven't seen the show I highly recommend it. I cannot accurately describe its fantasticness in mere words).

My friend Karen knew one of the tech guys for the show, and he offered to get us complimentary tickets. My thoughts were, "Really? But the show's sold out, right? Whhhhheeee! Wheeeeeee! Squeeeee!"

I would have been happy with any seat, even seats in the nosebleed section, so when we picked up tickets at Will Call that were printed "Floor 3" I had absolutely no problem with this.

However, once inside the arena, the ushers directed us to really prime seats in the front. "Floor 3" didn't mean seats on the third level. It meant seats on the floor, next to the stage, in section 3! My reaction was "Wheeee! I wouldn't have been able to afford an $86 ticket. Wheeee! Wait, we won't get food thrown on us right? Wooooooo!"

But here's the really really fun part: We had backstage passes! I've never had one of those, so I wasn't sure how they worked. I assumed a large group of the audience would be herded into a back room to watch the performers be interviewed by the press, or something.

However, we actually got to meet, take pictures with, and get autographs from the Blue Man Group and their back-up band and vocalists. Everyone was very friendly for people who were probably exhausted and dying to take a shower.

Wheeeeee!

The Blue Man Group remained in character throughout the meet and greet. They were completely silent and did not sign names. Instead, they smudged blue greasepaint onto papers as their "autographs." (One Blue Man kissed my paper and gave me lovely blue lip prints). They also blessed a bald fan by putting a blue palmprint on his head.

The backstage activities lasted about 20 minutes, and then the performers and audience left. However, since my friend Karen knew the tech guy, he took us to the tourbus area.

I wonder if anyone who saw us heading towards the back thought, "Those are some weird, non-skanky-looking groupies there." (We heard rumors that the show was sometimes messy, so I wore comfy jeans, beat-up tennis shoes, a turtleneck and a windbreaker).

Mr. Tech took us to the bus he shared with 8 other tech guys. "Welcome to the coffin box."

It was a very nice RV with marble counters, leather couches and DVD screens in all the bunk beds, but it was still very cramped for 6 months on the road. He told us that since it was a male tech bus, they actually had a subscription to the Playboy channel. You could find out who was hiding in his bunk by turning off the main TV, which was connected to the smaller bunk screens. The way to get a guy out of his bunk was to cut off the Playboy access.

There was a very small toilet in the RV. The tech guy warned us, "You can go number 1 in there, but we're not allowed to go number 2."

What?

"Yeah, the toilet isn't designed for that. If we have to go, we have to hold it until the next stop."

Ew.

Still, it was a fabulous evening, and definitely a great experience!

Europe Here I Come

Today, I'm leaving on a trip abroad.

I plan to eat my way across Europe. Much of my spending money is earmarked for weird, foreign candy.

I'm going to try out the scheduled posts thing. If it works, there are a few stories in the queue that will pop up like magic, without my intervention. If it doesn't work, then this blog will go silent for about 2 weeks, but don't worry, I'll be back!

With my luck, there will be at least a few wackos in my tour group.

We Seek the Paleface

When my boss heard the DHL story she told me about her experience in the Peace Corps.

Many years ago, she was stationed in Ethiopia and someone sent her a package. It was addressed to:

"White People. ____ Village. Ethiopia."

She had no problem receiving it.

Holding It In

An example of how not to be helpful:

On a long road trip through the desert, miles of highway in both directions, no bathroom in sight, I had to go.

I have a small bladder and generally frequent the facilities once an hour.

It had been 2.5 hours and I was trapped on a bus.

I was desperate.

My father said, "It'll be all right as long as you don't think about having to go to the bathroom."

I grumbled.

"Really, don't think about it."

Several minutes later he reminded me, "Don't think about having to go to the bathroom."

A little while later he decided to be helpful once again. "Remember, don't think about it."

He didn't seem to understand that saying "Don't think about peeing!" has the opposite effect.

Naughty Nurses in the National Park

Some time ago I took a bus trip to a national park. The tour bus was equipped with TV screens to keep us occupied during the long ride, but everyone had to watch the same movie. Sometimes it was okay (for example, when we watched Batman or James Bond). Other times it wasn't (like when we had to watch the same stupid teen "comedy" twice because they ran out of DVDs).

There was a DVD disc changer hooked up to all of the screens so one movie would end and another would start automatically. Unfortunately, a movie from the tour guide or bus driver's "personal collection" got into the queue.

The movie started. No one recognized it. We watched as a man walked into a suspiciously empty hospital, and was greeted by a posse of nurses. The nurses were very friendly and decided to help the man out of his clothing.

Then we realized OMG They're Showing Us Porn. On a bus full of families with children.

The old people started yelling, "What the hell is this?" which woke the tour guide up. He quickly turned off all the TV screens.

While all the parents on the bus were muttering about the "outrage" I was suppressing giggling fits. For the rest of the trip everyone knew that either the tour guide (or bus driver) liked Naughty Nurses movies.