do work

two work related things:

1) i am quitting Hell, Inc. Aug 1

B) i did some work on flickr and uploaded a ton more pics from around Europe

and lastly, i've been lazy with the Egypt blog. sue me. i'll try to have it up this week before i go to spain to get gored by a pack of angry bulls. what is a group of bulls? a flock of angry bulls? a school of angry bulls? nope, got it. a pride of angry bulls. zoology rocks.

Egypt Teaser

Full account to come soon, but I'll let you check out some pics. I took around 1300. Click here to see the highlights album.

Ski the Alps

When I first thought of moving to Europe, one of the things towards the top of my list was to ski the Alps. I didn’t know much about it, but I knew it would be amazing. So once the holidays were over, I rounded up some dudes for a Man Trip.

Seamus Jones: From Pennsylvania, looks like a young James Cromwell, barrel chested, loud snorer.

Michael Bourn: Buddhist Arizonian who has been partying non-stop since 1989. Fell in love with a Wicklow girl. Last known whereabouts: Southeast Asia.

Rob Davis: AKA Hearth-throb Rob. Ladies (and sometimes men) can’t keep their hands off him. You know he wants to party when he says, “I’ll have one but that’s it.”






Thuong Nguyen: That’s Tune Win. 37 but looks 25. Vietnamese with a Tennessee accent. (Mondee, Tuesdee, etc)

And me: well you pretty much know me, plus I would feel silly writing something like that about myself.

As you can see, we decided to grow some stellar mustaches for the trip. Why? Simple: for kicks. You might also notice that Seamus, despite being a grizzled 30+, is unable to grow visible facial hair, garnering him the nickname “Cinnamon Sprinkles,” much to his dismay. His attempt to relinquish this nickname by darkening the beard with mascara was futile, only subjecting him to further ridicule and heartache.

We must have talked about the trip for a month ahead of time. Hats off to Cinnamon Sprinkles for organizing pretty much the whole thing and making the video afterwards. In fairness, he does the least at work so it made sense.

On January 16, 2008 we set off on our adventure. I got to the airport pretty early (745am) and found Seamus half a pint down already. It was then that I knew what kind of trip this would be, and I nearly hugged him. We sat and had a nice pint of Guinness with breakfast while we waited for the others.

When they arrived, we couldn’t stop laughing, mostly at this picture:

For some reason I was offered a job with the highway patrol, and Rob was being recruited by the Irish Pimp Association. We graciously declined.

When we got on the plane we were as giddy as a bunch of Orange County girls on the way to the Paris Hilton Shoe and Purse Jamboree. When the flight attendant came by to take our drink order, I tried to order every beer I could think of that I knew they didn’t have.

Me: I’ll have an Old Milwaukee please.
FA: Huh?
Me: Keystone Light?
FA: We don’t have any of those.
Me: What about Colt 45?
FA: We have Heineken and Guinness.
Me: Oh cool I’ll just have a Natty Light then.
FA: Heineken or Guinness sir. (losing patience)
Me: Ok please tell me you have Milwaukee’s Best.
FA: (Stern look on her face that said: order a GD Heineken or Guinness or I will lock you in the shitter!)
Me: Heineken please. Thank you ma’am.

We landed in Geneva, Switzerland where we were met by a van to take us across the border to Chamonix, France. Chamonix is a lovely little resort town in the Alps near Mont Blanc, the highest peak in the French Alps. We were staying in a hostel that was something like €24 per night and we had low expectations. We really only wanted a place to sleep on the cheap. We were pleasantly surprised. The hostel included breakfast and dinner, both very good, and had a good mix of people and a decent bar. We had a six man room and the 6^th man ended up being a guy from England who we think was probably gay. We apologized in advance for what we knew he was about to suffer through for the next 4 nights.

That first night we rented our gear, ate dinner at the hostel, and ended up drinking Amstel there until late. Four of us went to bed and Thuong went out with some new friends to another bar. Amidst all the snoring I think I heard him stumble in at about 430am. When we all got up at 8 to hit the slopes, he was nestled under everything he owned, which he had somehow dumped out of his bag. We didn’t see him until late that afternoon.

There are several places to choose from to ski and we picked one at random. It was only a short walk from the hostel to the bus station, which took us straight to the lifts. That first day was the worst weather we had, but it still wasn’t bad. A bit foggy and windy but we still had a great time. Bourn was the self designated navigator, and once we got him to hold the map right side up he did a phenomenal job. Quite a few falls that day, except for Grandpa Jones, who never went fast enough to even worry about a wobble. At one point I saw him sipping tea and knitting a shawl while making slow gentle S curves down the mountain, not a care in the world.

From here on the details get a little fuzzy… I know we went out that night, but I couldn’t tell you with 100% accuracy the order of the following events. This is only partially due to the amount of beers consumed, but also the amount of time (and subsequent beers consumed) since these events took place. I’ll tell you the stories and you can put them together in a way that suits you best. Interactive blog!

I do know that that night we went out to a nice dinner and I had something called Raclette. Raclette is a meal that consists of a giant wedge of cheese placed on a special heater that melts the sides, which you scrape onto an assortment of meats, potatoes, and breads. It was superb. I remember it well because it gave us all terrible gas for the rest of the trip. Toasty on the slopes, menacing in the hostel. We had that with some good wine. I’ve never seen or heard of this anywhere else but I recommend it if you ever come across it. There was a pub there that we went to after that. It was a quieter place that people went to before they really went out for the night. We stayed a while and met some other travelers. Once we were done there we finished up at the hostel and went to bed.

The second day of skiing we went to the other side of the valley. This side was more wide open. At the top, they had this cable car that went from peak to peak and it seemed to just disappear in the fog and go nowhere. Once you got above the clouds, it was like a clear sunny day and it was actually quite warm. This offered some of the most breathtaking views I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what it is about the Alps, but they seem more beautiful than the Rockies. Maybe that’s just because they are newer to me.

This was the first day we had Thuong and he was, shall we say, how do I put this delicately, a terrible skier. The man couldn’t keep his skis on if we nailed them to his feet. You know those plastic fences they put up around tricky spots so no one goes over the edge, but every time you see them you think, “no one is that bad. I bet no one ever gets caught in those nets,” ? Behold:

That’s Thuong, in one of those nets, at the end of one of the gentlest catwalks you will ever see. They were training toddlers how to “make a pizza” to stop, and Thuong ended up looking like a fly caught in a spider web. Someone actually had to use Thuong’s own ski to fish him out. Ok maybe I’m beating him up too much, he picked it up later but I think we can all say he was on his butt more than the rest of us.

That night (or one of those night, they’re all running together now) was a big sports night. There was an important rugby match on as well as an NFL playoff game. We found a pub called Munster’s that had the game on so we hung out there for a while. It ended up being 99% Irish people so we felt right at home. I don’t remember anything about the football. I think about half way in we all forgot about it. There were plenty of people to talk to and we found ourselves explaining the game quite a bit. Munster’s was in a town square with a few other places so we bounced around quite a bit that night. Somewhere along the way I remember being at a cool bar with the best cover band I have ever seen. I also remember slipping on some ice in the middle of the road and falling to the ground. You know on cartoons where they slip on ice and their legs keep trying to keep up and their arms go flailing? That was me. I can actually remember, while I was sliding all over the place but before I fell, thinking that I must look like one of those cartoon characters. Seamus and Rob D witnessed the whole thing and we couldn’t stop laughing for hours. For the life of me I can’t place which night that was. We ended up at the only nightclub in town for what we called dancing and, as usual, finished in the hostel and went to bed.

The third and final day of skiing we all felt a bit groggy but spirits were high. We went up the side of the mountain near Mont Blanc. We skied for a couple of hours before we stumbled across a lodge halfway down the mountain. The weather was nice, we were a bit tired and parched, so we stopped for a snack and a “quick beer” while we sat outside. 3 hours later we were 6 beers deep we were still in lawn chairs on the deck. 6 beers x altitude = an excellent head for skiing. Most of the antics that occurred on the slopes (which you can see in this video) happened that afternoon when we finally went back out. It was the first time I’ve ever skied with liquid courage and I have to say it was really fun.

The trip home looked like 5 of the most tired boys in history. It felt like I didn’t sleep for days. With all the snoring going on, I probably slept 45 minutes total. I’ve also never drank that many beers over a 4 day period in my life. We yawned, farted, and laughed the whole way home. It was a highly successful trip that we still laugh about often. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, ski the Alps.

London Gentleman

Around Christmastime, everyone I knew had somewhere to go. Most of my American friends were going back to the States and my Irish friends where mostly traveling or doing other family things. I had to get out of town, so I booked a cheap ticket to London. By myself… (Queue sad, lonely, emo music. In this scene, I’m walking with my head down and then I look back like I’m expecting someone to be there, with a single solitary tear running down my cheek…)

Just kidding, it wasn’t that bad. I actually like traveling by myself because I can do anything I want and I never have to wait on anyone. It’s very liberating. I flew out on Christmas Eve, which was only two days after I got back from Germany. I really didn’t have any plans, other than a show on London’s famous West End. It’s like Broadway in NYC.

My flight was in the morning, so I was in London by noon. It would have been earlier but I flew into Gatwick, which is further out and you have to take a train to get into the main part of the city. I took the train to a main tube (subway) station and then took several different tubes to the area my hotel was in (sort of), Piccadilly Circus. I stayed at the Hotel Russell in Russell’s Square on Great Russell Street. How could I not? I had to take several different ones and go out of my way because, of all the tubes in London Underground, the one that I needed was out of service. And my hotel wasn’t as close as I thought it was so I ended up taking a cab from the subway station. I got there eventually. Piccadilly Circus is kind of like Times Square in New York, lots of lights and very busy and right next to the West End and all the shows. It is also very close to one of the main shopping areas of London. Overall, it’s very central and near a lot of things to see.

My show, Les Miserables, was that night so I checked in to the hotel, went for a quick bite, and headed to the theatre. I’ve been to several shows on Broadway and you always hear how good this one is. The acting was great, as were the costumes and everything else, but the show was not my cup o’ tea. Rather boring if you ask me. I appreciated it but didn’t particularly enjoy it.

I went back to the hotel hoping that there would be some people in the bar to chat with but it was virtually empty, so I just went to bed.

My plan was to take the open top bus tour on Christmas day. I had bought a ticket the previous day while I was out and about. When I woke up (first of all Santa had not been there, I need to talk to you mom…) it was raining enough that the bus tour didn’t look like much fun. Neither did walking around. The rain really dampened my spirits (bad joke, sorry). So I didn’t do much in the morning but eventually walked down the street to have lunch. I had a nice bangers and mash and by then the rain was intermittent, so I went for a walk. I went back towards Piccadilly but there wasn’t much going on, so I figured I would catch a movie, common enough on Christmas day in the US. Every theatre was closed, I passed several. So I went for fish and chips and went back to the hotel where I watched movies until I fell asleep. Not the most festive Christmas I’ve had, but like I said, I was just relaxing.

The next day, Boxing Day, it was still raining but it was my last day so I decided to use my bus ticket anyway. I didn’t have as much time as I would have liked because I had to catch the train back to Gatwick for my evening flight.

The tour wasn’t that long, so I got to see quite a few things. I picked it up from Trafalgar square, which commemorates British victory at the Battle of Trafalgar during the Napoleonic Wars. Just down the road were Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Across the street from that was Westminster Abbey. I would have liked to have gotten out here and walked around a bit, but no time. Just over the River Thames and I was at the London Eye, which is the biggest Ferris wheel in Europe. I was really looking forward to going on it but, again, no time. From there it continued through the streets of London, past St. Paul’s cathedral and across Tower Bridge to the Tower of London, which is one of the more important monuments in London. It is a castle that has served as a fortress, a royal palace, and a prison. I was dying to go in but as you can probably guess, I didn’t. The next place I stopped was Buckingham Palace. I’ll be honest, it’s not that impressive from the outside. I hear the inside and the gardens are amazing but I’ll have to see that next time. I missed the changing of the guards as well.

From there I took the bus to the stop nearest my hotel, where I picked up my back and headed to the airport. It was short and sweet, I knew I would be back. I’ll spend another day there in July (on my way to run with the bulls in Spain!), hopefully I can go up in the London Eye or maybe the Tower, if time permits. Check back later for that.

The Italian 5-0 and nude German senior citizens!

Remember when I told you that we went to the ticket booth at the train station in Rome to get a ticket for Venice three days later? Sounds pretty easy right? I mean in Normal World, you buy a ticket for a train and then get on that train and it takes you to your destination. You do exactly what the ticket says and the conductor does his part and the World makes sense. Well, in the World I’m living in, this is what happens:

We had this thing called a EuroPass. It’s basically a cheaper way to travel by train if you will be going several different places in a short time. Ours was good for 5 days of train travel within three months. It was more than we needed but still worked out cheaper than buying each one separately. We took these to the ticket booth in Rome and told the lady “We have the Europass, here it is, we’d like to take X train to Venice please,” and the reply we heard was “Sure thing, here are your reservation cards and your EuroPasses back.”

What we really told her was “Howdy! We’re two Stupid Americans and we’d like you to con us out of some money and scare the shit out us please,” to which she really replied, “I can see that. No worries, here’s a reservation card for your ass shafting and, don’t worry, I’ll make sure my inside guy on the train is extra scary for youJ”

You see, on the EuroPass, it clearly says that you have to have a stamp from a train official each day you use it, this way they know how many days you’ve used. We knew this going in, and I’d say we both expected the lady at the counter to do it when we got our reservations. In the Real World, she was supposed to, and I think she knew this. In Bizarro World, she didn’t.

When we got on the train, we sat in the wrong seats. No worries, we moved to the correct seats. Good news from Perfect World, there’s a beautiful girl across the isle! We’re sorry for this urgent interruption from Sucky World, she’s about to have a laugh at your expense.

The journey from Rome to Venice is about 3.5 hours. We made it through about 2 hours unscathed and then the gelato hit the fan. The ticket collector blew through all the passengers from Pleasantville (where everyone’s tickets are made of candy and you can float away in a bubble as soon as you are stamped) and then took a right into Retard Alley (where our tickets are made of used hypodermic needles and we now have HIV), where we were sitting. I handed him my reservation card and my EuroPass. He glanced at them both, seemed satisfied, and punched a hole in the reservation card before he handed it all back. Shane followed and just when he was about to punch the hole, I mean if a fly had landed on his hand at the right moment it would have been enough to force it, he brought it closer for a second look. He made a face, we’ll call it a grimace, and then gestured for me to hand mine back. He looked at it again, glanced at us both from over the top of his glasses, and uttered what was one of few phrases he knew in English, “Big Trouble,” and put everything in his inside coat pocket. Then he looked at us like our parents used to do when we fessed up to something terrible we had done. And then it was silent.

Oh. Shite.

I said to Shane, “I think we’re in trouble here. Big Trouble even.” I try to be funny even when it’s not appropriate sometimes. Shane was not amused.

A boy about 16 years old in front of us heard what was going on and offered to translate as best he could. I don’t suspect he was part of The Great Italian Train Ripoff but if he was, he was the best actor. They had a brief conversation in Italian and then he told us what we both knew.

1) The EuroPass should have been stamped before we got on the train.
2) Being on the train without the stamp was like being on the train with no ticket at all.
3) Being on a train with no ticket at all in Italy is a Big Deal.

And then number 4, the one we didn’t see coming

4) Pay him €100 each and we’ll forget this ever happened.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I was instantly furious. Shane was silent. It was clear that I was to be the spokesman for the team. I pleaded my case like this:

1) We showed the lady the EuroPass and she did nothing, this is HER fault.

2) Cant you just stamp it for us now? This is the first use and we don’t even need all that we paid for. We’re not trying to get away with anything!

3) %#$*(#$*@&!&!

This is where the integrity of the boy came in. In the Land of Milk and Honey, the boy would have translated, the sensible ticket collector would have agreed that it was a simple misunderstanding, and we would all laugh about it over champagne. In our land, the Land of Piss and Chaos, it went slightly different…

All this time he was shaking his head no and making the “give me money” gesture with his fingers, which REALLY pissed me off, hence #4. He mumbled something to the kid and he said to us, “He says you go to jail.” I said we’re not paying. So, he left.

I’d say about 10 minutes passed with nether of us saying anything and then I turned to Shane and told him that the way I see it, we have two options here:

1) Go to jail in Italy and have an amazing story to tell about it later.

2) Pay the guy, continue our trip, and tell about the time we almost went to jail in Italy.

I left the decision to him; I was actually up for either.

Ever the voice of reason, Shane explained the we knew nothing about Italian jail (it could be terrible, like Mexico or Office Space or something), we didn’t speak the language, it would cost more than €50 to get out of jail, it would ruin the rest of the trip, he had to be back home on a certain date, etc, etc….

Then we just sat there for 20 minutes.

The train started to slow down to a stop but I knew we couldn’t be at Venice yet. For a brief moment, I suspected they were stopping to throw two American stowaways out into the cold. Then I realized that if they were going to do that, they wouldn’t slow down, they would just throw us out at full speed. Then I realized that I was being crazy and that we were just stopping at one of the many stops in other towns along to way, to drop off and pick up passengers. And that’s when I think Shane and I had the same idea at the same time. Maybe we could run inside to the ticket booth, with our Italian Ticket Nazi, and get the passes stamped. After all, we were still on the same day, day 1, so it wouldn’t matter, right? Shane ran back to run the plan by the guy.

While he was gone, I noticed the hot girl across the isle was giggling. She was looking at a piece of paper that her companion, a mid-30’s gal, had given her. I knew it was about us but didn’t let on. After she set the paper on the table, I gave it an inconspicuous glance. From what I could make out, it was a doodle of Shane and me crying in our seat while the Big Bad Train Man scolded us and threatened us with hard time. At my expense, but funny. So I leaned over and said to the lady, “If I get dragged out of here kicking and screaming, will you mail that to my mom so she knows what happened to me?” If I’m going down, I’m at least going to see if I can make a pretty girl smile first. She did, then she gave me the picture (which I still have) and we began to chat. They offered to help in any way they could but there was nothing they could do. Shane came back with exactly the response we all expected. No dice.

So we sat there again for the rest of the trip. We chatted with our new friends a bit, managing to disguise our emotional discomfort well enough I suppose. We were trying to play it cool, you know, don’t panic. This will work itself out, no problems, someone will come to our rescue.

Then the train pulled us back to Planet Earth where we were in Deep Shit. Our friend was back at our seats as the train came to a stop. He said nothing, we said nothing, he just stood there making that “fork over the dough, wussbags” gesture again, which I think he knew infuriated me. I still refused to pay. When it looked like we were at a stalemate, he cracked a little and said, “€50 each.” This angered me even further because it proved to me that the original €100 was clearly just for his pocket, or at least half of it was. I glanced at Shane and he gave me a look that said, “quit being an idiot, this guy is serious, we’ll never survive in jail, just pay the man and lets get out of here,” so that’s what we did. We even got a receipt for it, which pissed me off even more, and he stamped our Europasses.

So we got off the train and I was sweating like crazy. We walked into the terminal and stopped to look around and then just started laughing. Yes, it was scary and yes, we just lost €50 each but now that it was over, it was hilarious. And we still had a good story (right?)

We didn’t have a reservation in Venice and it was getting near 9pm. We called a hostel to ask directions and they said they were full. So we called the other hostel and they said they were also full. So we just started walking. Lost. Venice is pretty quiet at night. We turned down a narrow allow and found a hotel that wasn’t too expensive.

The next morning we were up pretty early and the first thing we did was get our train tickets to our next destination, which we decided would be Interlaken, Switzerland. We had some breakfast and then hopped on the bus. By bus I mean waterbus. They have the same type of public transport as anywhere else; expect they are all boats that hold 100 stinky people rather than buses that hold 100 stinky people. . We were headed to the only major site in Venice called Piazza San Marco. It has a large basilica and a tower and tons of shops. Saint Mark’s Basilica is one of the coolest I have seen so far. They won’t even let you take a camera in. Every square inch of the inside is covered with very intricate mosaic. The tiles they used are very small too, so the pictures look extremely detailed. Most of them depict scenes from the bible. I wish I would have been able to take pictures inside. This is also where we were attacked by pigeons. They will literally land on your shoulder or head if they think you have food, and once one does it they all do it. It’s disgusting. We ran.

After that we just walked around all day. I have to say, there really isn’t too much to see in Venice. Most of the streets are lined with shops and most of them are expensive. It’s a very nice place and definitely worth a look, but it’s geared more towards the Romantic Getaway rather than the Two Single Dudes Conquering Europe trip. We ate some good lunch and there are some neat bridges and boats to see. We took the waterbus out to Murano, which is another island and is famous for glassware. We heard that you can watch them make it but we never found that. They must have been closed. Towards the end of the day, when we normally would have had a nice dinner, we ate at Burger King to help make up for getting robbed on the train.

Since we had walked all day and Venice isn’t exactly known for its nightlife, we were out of things to do and back at the hotel by 6. We didn’t want to just go to bed but we had been all over town and it was dark. I suggested that we go to the Chinese place next door and have a drink or two. We ended up drinking the place out of wine and went home at 9. It’s a good thing it was right next door or we might have drowned. That was a good night, though, because we spent the whole time rehashing memories and telling stories from growing up together in Coldwater.

The next morning we had about a 4 hour train ride through northern Italy to Switzerland. This was some of the most beautiful scenery I have seen. We went through many farms and wineries and eventually through the Alps. I didn’t get a good picture of this out the train window, unfortunately.

We had to switch trains in a small town and we missed the stop. So we got off at Bern and went back. This only cost us about half an hour. When we got to Interlaken it was dark but it was beautiful even so. We were staying in a hostel that was known as being a good time for people our age. We checked in and went to dinner at the restaurant where we met some other Americans. After that we went downstairs to the nightclub and met some people and had a few beers. We had an early train the next morning so we didn’t stay out too late. I definitely want to go back to that town; we didn’t spend enough time there.

Our next destination was our last, Baden-Baden, Germany. We had a room booked for that night and then we were both flying to separate places to go home. The main plan there was the Roman Bath, which they are famous for. We got checked in to the hotel and made our way over to the spa. On the way we had some amazing lunch.

The spa is…well…nude. It’s a nude spa. Before your mind goes straight to the gutter, you should know that most of the occupants are German pensioners. It’s not like the Playboy mansion or anything from a movie (bummer). I’d say Shane and me brought the average age down a good 15 years. What brought us to it was that it was highly recommended, cheap, and a great way to end a week long trip through Europe. We had realistic expectations going in to this; we knew it wasn’t going to fulfill any fantasies. Unless your fantasies include this you sicko:

When you go in, you pay and they give you a key to a locker. The men go in one locker room and the women another. They instruct you to strip down and then head to station 1. There are 14 stations in total and it’s supposed to take about 3.5 hours. The men’s locker room is like a labyrinth. We found a locker but there was no clear path to station 1. I was naked first so I volunteered to go look for it while Shane finished bearing his soul to the world. Now Shane had warned me, because he knows me so well, that it would most likely NEVER be appropriate for me to laugh while we were inside this place, and he’d rather not have me embarrass him. I agreed and assured him that I was here to relax and I understood the seriousness of the situation. I lasted about 10 minutes. As soon as I walked around the corner, I was face to face with a 75 year old, naked, wrinkled, WOMAN. In the course of one second I thought to myself, “Are we in the wrong locker room? No, we are definitely in the men’s room.” So, I laughed. Not like a giggle or a chuckle, but one of those laughs where it sounds like you are trying to hold it in at first and so you just grunt and spit a lot, and then a full on LOL. I was cracking up. I walked back around the corner before Shane could scold me, I knew he wanted to, and I whispered “There’s an ole lady in here!” and right about that time she appeared, in all her saggy glory. All was forgiven immediately because this was legitimately funny. So then we had a showdown with her. She stood there for a second or two, looking us up and down, no reaction whatsoever, expecting us to say something. We said “HAHAHA” and snorted a lot so she walked away.

After that debacle was over we spent the next three and half hours in total relaxation. It starts off with a hot shower from a giant shower head, then moves on to progressively hotter saunas. Station 5 is a massage and brush scrub, from a man. We knew this was part of it and of course we both hoped for women but who were we kidding. By then I was so relaxed I didn’t care. You lay on a hot marble slab while they work your muscles, then they scrub you with a coarse brush. The guy asked me if I wanted the hard brush or the soft brush. To help me choose, he ran each of them across my arm. The hard brush was like one of those wire brushes you clean your grill with, and I felt no discernable difference between that and the soft brush. I chose the soft brush anyway. I can say I’ve never been cleaner in my life than I was after that. I was worried that he was going to scrub my tattoos clean off. After that it was a series of steam rooms, hot tubs, and pools. There is only one station that is coed, and that is the giant hot tub in the middle. There was only one girl in there while we were there and, to be honest, she looked like a guy. I was so relaxed by then that the Swedish Bikini Team could have been in there and I still would have fallen asleep, which is what I did. The very last station is a bed. They wrap you up like a burrito and just let you lay in a bed for as long as you want. The sign says 30 minutes, but we both fell asleep and were in there for 50 minutes. We only woke up because some guy started snoring. When it was all over, we floated back to the hotel and slept for 3 hours.

When we woke up we were starving and it was dinner time. We had some good food, again, and went back to the hotel to relax for the evening, still a bit groggy from the spa treatment.

The next morning Shane flew to London and I flew home to Dublin. It was an amazing, life altering trip that we’ll both remember forever.