EuroTrip Preview

For the past 3 weeks, I’ve basically been living in constant fear of my cell phone. Because whenever it rings there are only two things that can happen: either Comcast is hunting me down for the cable bill, or worse, Dave Robb is calling me with another stupid assignment. “Book this flight. Check that bus schedule. Email your friend. Go on Skype. Wake up. Get the fuck out of bed.” Shit just wouldn’t stop.

The good news, though, is that we’re finally done planning. Dusseldorf. Odense. Copenhagen. Amsterdam. Prague. Munich. Rome. Madrid. Bilbao. Barcelona. The flights are all in order. The hostels are booked. Cole World is on the iPod. And I bought these shoes that are so European-looking, even Calvin would probably think twice before trying them on.

Anyway, I guess now would be an appropriate time to address all the rumors that have been swirling around over the past couple months. It’s true. I’m not coming back to the U.S. at the end of this little adventure. When Dave gets on that Aer Lingus flight in mid-November, he will be all by himself.

No, seriously. I’ve played it out in my head like 1000 times, and it always ends the same way. I meet this girl at a club in Barcelona. We enjoy a wonderful evening together, and the next day she introduces me to her father, who just so happens to be a wealthy businessman. He offers me a job and Isabella begs me to stay. But I have to decline. I try to let her down as gently as possible, which is difficult for me because I don’t exactly put the “b” in subtle. “Isabella, mi amor. No puedo. Tengo un blog muy famoso en los estados unidos. Se llama albermarleallstars.blogspot.com. No podrias entender. Lo siento.”

Obviously, though, this vision doesn’t end there. I start seriously weighing my options more and more. Realistically, I could continue writing the blog from Spain. Sure, the cast of characters would change, but we could make it work. Also, my mom would probably miss me, but it’s no secret that I’m her third favorite child, so that’s not really a huge concern either. Maybe if it were Julie or Dan. But I doubt she would come chasing after me.

Once I make my decision, I finally work up the courage to tell Dave that I’m going to stay in Barcelona. He pretends to be disappointed, even though deep down he’s relieved that he’ll never have to deal with me on the basketball court ever again. But he still handles the entire situation with class. First class, all the way. We hug it out one last time, and he asks if there’s one last thing I want to tell the gang back home. Nah, man. They know I love them. And we turn around and go our separate ways…“Actually, Dave. There is one thing. Could you have someone finish my Words with Friends game with Sonya? I’ve built up like a 103-point lead and it would a shame if I lost because of a forfeit. Thanks, man.”

I Can't Decide Which Waitress at Union St. I Should Leave My Number For

A few years ago, back when The Gap was still a place where reasonable people could buy clothes, I went to the one at the Atrium to get a pair of jeans. After I try on a few pairs and make my decision, I obviously go up to pay for them. I give the girl behind the register my credit card, and she swipes it. But then she writes her name and phone number on the receipt and tells me to call her personally if there are any problems.

I remember thinking to myself, “Well, that’s just ridiculous. If there are problems with these jeans, I’m probably just going to return them. Not sure how calling you on your cell phone is going to fix anything.” It honestly wasn’t until I was back in my car that I realized, “Wait a second, was that just what I think it was?” Then when I got home and opened up the bag, I saw that this girl had “accidentally” left the security tag on my jeans, forcing me to go back into the store to have it removed. So I get in the car again and drive back to the Atrium. I walk into the store, and, just my luck, this girl is nowhere to be found. I have some other random employee remove the security tag and then I leave and go about my day. I never end up calling her, and that’s basically the end of this story.

But three years later, I still kinda regret it. Like what if that was some huge missed opportunity? I mean, superficial hook-ups that eventually fizzle out after two months don’t just grow on trees. And that’s especially true once you’ve graduated college and are stuck living with your parents. So you know what? I decided I’m going to leave my name and number on the receipt for one of the waitresses at Union St. The problem is, I can’t decide which one. Here are the frontrunners:

Waitress who loves me but is probably a little old for me. Two weeks ago, I waited by myself at the bar for like 30 minutes, and she kept me company. Plus she laughs at all my jokes, which is kind of a big thing for me. For example, she started informing us of how many wings we were eligible for based on the number of beers we had bought. “Well, you guys have ordered 3 pitchers, and you’ve only ordered 40 wings. So you can order another 50 wings!” Naturally, I made some witty comment about how we should be able to rollover those wings to next week and she just ate it up. “Hehehehe, oh that’s gooood. Nobody’s ever asked about that. I think I’m gonna tell my manager that one.” You do that, honey. Then come back like three years younger and maybe we can talk.

Waitress with the glasses who’s gonna ask about the Miller Lite beer tower. Love the initiative that this girl takes. She brings us this sweet Boston Celtics edition beer tower which I immediately identify as a fantastic trophy for the Albermarle All-Star of the Year Award. So we ask her how much it would cost to take it home with us. Instead of just laughing it off like most people probably would, she asks her manager about it and comes back with the most detailed response of all-time. Says that they rent it from the Miller Lite promotion company, so technically they can’t sell it to us. But since she knows we come every week, her manager is gonna try to get one for us by next Monday. Great news for us. Unfortunately for me, I’m pretty sure I saw this girl with her boyfriend during Week 3.

Waitress who’s Pre-med and therefore out of the running as a long-term option. This girl started off strong by recognizing us a “regulars.” And I’m pretty sure she’d never actually waited on us before, so that sense of awareness will put you on my radar 100 times out of 100. Unfortunately, though, it was mostly downhill from there. I recycled the same “rollover wings” joke with her and it missed completely. Then she had to close out her tab early with us because she needed to go study for her molecular biology exam. Trying to be a doctor or some shit. And everybody knows I only date teachers, nurses and Winter Olympians, so obviously that’s not gonna fly.

Time for a little change

Everyone knows by this point that Theo Epstein is leaving for Chicago to become their President of Baseball Operations. And you can’t really blame him. He accomplished everything he set out to accomplish. He will be adored by Red Sox fans whenever he shows his face in Boston. And so, I wish him the best of luck.

But that got me thinking. There are some changes that I would like to make in my own life. For instance, I’ve pretty much been the official 3rd Wheel of Team Zack and Mel for the past couple years. We basically do everything together. We play Words with Friends together. We go on Spring Break together. There really isn’t anything that I’m excluded from.

Nevertheless, I think it’s time for a change. No offense guys, you’ve been great. Honestly, you really have. But I’ve won my two World Series already, and there’s not much left for me to accomplish here. I need a new challenge. So effective Monday, October 17, 2011 I’m officially signing with Team Dave and Libby as President of Relationship Operations.

Obviously, my biggest obstacle will be convincing Libby that I’m actually a halfway decent person, because on Friday night she basically told me she thought I was an asshole. Honestly, though, I can’t even blame her for trying to add some variety to our conversation. Because for as long as Libby and I have known each other, we essentially have only had two discussion topics: Libby’s marathon training and my trip to Europe. And unfortunately, you can only get so much mileage out of a race that Libby’s never run and a continent that I’ve never actually been to.

Next order of business. When we’re out at a bar with all our friends, stop pretending like you’re on a first date. It’s ridiculous. Act like you’ve been there before. Seriously, everybody else is dancing and having a great time, and these two will be sitting in the corner flirting with each other. On Saturday night at The Draft, for example, I saw Dave gently touch Libby’s knee and then quickly pull it back as if he was trying to play it cool. Like, bro, you know you’re already going home with her, right? You don’t need to win her over. Casually putting your hand on a girl’s knee is arguably the most important move for a single guy, so for you to go around wasting it like that is pretty irresponsible. I mean, isn’t that like the entire point of being in a relationship? So you can talk about sports with your buddies all night and then get some anyway without needing to try?

And finally, we need to make sure Libby stops calling him “Quinn.” Listen, you guys aren’t a couple of bros shooting the shit together at the Plex. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend. If a girl ever calls me Sal or Voochi, I obviously know right away that I have zero chance with her. It’s a fucking death sentence. Clean it up Libs.

History Shows How #OccupyWallStreet Will End

Lost in all the recent media coverage of #OccupyWallStreet is the fact that this is not the first protest of its kind. Back in 2007 at Newton North High School, a group of students organized a movement called Occupy Main Street in response to a controversial decision to move Senior Countdown to the cafeteria.

For decades, NN seniors had celebrated the culmination of their high school education by hosting a Countdown Party right in the middle of the historic Main Street. But school administrators felt the chaotic festivities provided too much of a distraction for underclassmen, and so a ruling was made to move the Countdown to the more secluded cafeteria.

Obviously, the students were vehemently upset with this decision and immediately set out in protest. Similarly to #OccupyWallStreet, Occupy Main Street used social media to share their ideas and organize their demands. One Facebook user posted on the group wall, “They can’t do this to us!” And under the strength of rallying cries like that one, students were able to plead with teachers on the issue. Some even went so far as to tell the teachers that they would rather not attend the Countdown than do it in the cafeteria.

When Senior Day finally arrived, students set up lawn chairs on Main Street, tossed footballs back and forth, and simply caused a general ruckus. Throughout the day, more and more students joined the movement. Much like the #OccupyWallStreet protesters, these students also had no idea what they were protesting against, but they had nothing else better to do and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Eventually, though, the teachers and school officials were able to persuade the students to file down to the cafeteria. Without any legitimate foundation to stand on, the students had no choice but to surrender. Not to mention, high school was about to be over and nobody cared anymore and we all left to go party. Just like eventually Phish is gonna play Madison Square Garden again and all these hipsters are gonna leave this protest and forget it ever happened.





P.S. Who's the really handsome guy crowd surfing in that first picture?