cant_stop_the_beat
March 16th, 2008, 09:59 PM
READ&REVIEW PLEASE! :)
1ONE1
Of all the horribly horrible vacations that I have ever taken in my horrible 18 years of existence: this one takes the cake. There is not a single vacation on earth that could suck as hard as the first ten hours of this disgustingly out-of-whack vacation have. There is no one location in the world that Mom and her newest beau, Fred, could take me that would render me as utterly ****** off and speechless as standing here, on the corner of a random German street, in Germany (no ****) with nothing but my brand new leather jacket draped over my head as a make-shift awning to protect my meticulously styled chestnut bob.
I should have known the moment the pilot had come over the loudspeaker in JFK airport mumbling something about a rain delay. I should’ve known after the first hour of sitting in seat A row 32 with a screaming baby on my right and a snoring man on my left that, even if the plane took off in the following 10 minutes, the vacation was already screwed. But no, I had tramped on. I had thought about how liberating it had been when I typed my Visa card number into expedia.com and selected the flight to Berlin. And yet, all the great thoughts in the world couldn’t get me out of the predicament I was currently in.
“Taxi!” I scream, allowing my one free arm to flail out from underneath the leather jacket that is practically groaning underneath the strain of the ever-pounding sheets of rain. I stomp my feet and curse my luck, or rather, my stupidity. My feet are in pure pain. I can feel the blisters popping up on the heels of my feet and all I want to do is cry and get on the next flight home. I shuffle my feet, attempting to lessen the ache, but all I manage to do is step into a foot deep puddle, forever ruining my suede Prada boots that I’d bought two sizes too small just for the sheer brand name. “Never again,” I mutter to myself as a bolt of lightning cracks across the sky and I jump back in horror, knocking over my two pink plastic suitcases. “Crap, crap, crap.” I groan as a pair of headlights race towards me in the night.
“Taxi!” I cry out again, completely forgetting the German word for taxi. Or is it taxi? Either which way, I’m pretty positive a shouting foreigner in the streets is the universal sign for taxi in any given country. I sigh a breath of relief as a crappy white vehicle crawls to a stop in front of me. The window squeaks down just far enough for me to lean off of the curb and peak in, my green eyes poking out from beneath my now soaking wet bangs.
“Here,” I reach in my pocket and retrieve a piece of stationary, momentarily scoffing at the small doodles mom had etched into the corners moments before my departure. “Go here,” I can see the rain has damaged the writing, allowing the chicken scratch in blue pen to snake its way down the majority of the pink paper. The cabbie grunts and pops the trunk, leaving me to do the rest.
Having completely given up on my overall appearance I open the back door, throw my destroyed leather jacket in the back and tug the two pieces of luggage with me around the side of the cab just as another piece of **** car flashes by, covering me with murky puddle water. “Are you ****ing kidding me?” I groan, half laughing at the concept of it all. I toss the two pieces of luggage into the trunk, not caring if they bust open and actually hoping they will just for the story. I climb in the backseat, raking a hand through my hair and marveling at the way it stands up straight. My white washed jeans are soaked to a nearly dark denim aside from one elegantly placed patch of dryness between my legs. My toes are threatening to bust through the tips of my sopping wet suede boots at any moment and my white shirt is clung so tightly to my chest I momentarily glance in the rearview mirror just to make sure the cabbie isn’t eyeing me.
I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the window and listen to the soft tapping of the excess water run off of me and onto the ugly leather seats. In my mind I begin to plot the numerous ways I am going to murder my horribly spoiled, horribly annoying, horribly clingy 16 year old soon-to-be stepsister. As if inviting her into my family wouldn’t be enough, she had to go and forget me at the airport in a foreign country. I wonder what dad will have to say about that. He’s already stressed about the upcoming nuptials, add a horrid little step-daughter on top of that and I’m pretty sure I can spice this vacation up in one go. I rub my hands together, thinking of it all, and nearly cackling out loud as I do.
“Hallo?” My eyes fly open and immediately lock with the cabbies. I sit up quickly, rubbing my eyes and looking around. “You fell asleep.” He pauses before starting again “40.83.” He says. And I’m proud of the way I understand his thick German numbers. He offers me a half smile and for a second I’m ready to return it when I notice he’s merely staring at my completely visible bra.
If only I knew the words for ‘screw off’. But instead I opt to let it go as I reach into my pockets and fish around for that 40 Euros mom had handed to me back at the airport. Nothing. I try the other pocket. Still nothing. Frantically I reach into my two back pockets and tug out the linings.
“Shoot,” I groan, smacking the heel of my palm into my forehead. It must have fallen out when I’d gotten out the address for the old dude. “No money,” I hold my thumb, pointer and middle fingers together and rub. The universal sign for “money”. I jump out of the car, holding up one finger and charging up the cobblestone walkway to the front of the villa. I knock hard on the door. Once. Twice. And step back, eyeing the meticulous gardening and the two floodlights illuminating the whole front of the villa. Dad had sent me a few pictures when they’d first bought the place, but I hadn’t imagined it to be anything like this. The roof slanted in typical European architecture and the outside of the house was a pretty cream staccato. I run my hands along the surface of the house as I continue to hold up one finger in the cabbie’s direction. Around the side I notice an open window with nothing but a screen between myself and the inside of what appears to be a study. I hoist myself up, using my tiny frame to my advantage as I scale the side of the house. I pop the screen out and jump in, glancing at the thousands of shelves full of books and reminding myself to give them a look later.
I edge my way across the hall and instantly see the kitchen, charging in and tugging open drawer on top of drawer, yet finding nothing. “Where would dad hide money,” I think aloud to myself while demolishing the kitchen and leaving a royal mess in my wake. Nothing. I process a number of thoughts and wonder which is best. Time to beg. I think to myself as I make my way towards the front door, a number of different forms of begging crossing my mind. I open the door just as a loud thud resounds throughout the house. Turning slowly on one heel I prance up the flight of mahogany stairs and creep up the dark hallway. From a door on my right a series of thuds as well as pounding music is permeating throughout the hollowed corridors. I walk closer, reaching out and grabbing the doorknob.
“A-ha!” I scream, as I charge into the room. “You little –“ I stop midsentence and scream, covering my eyes with both of my forearms and turning away as fast as possible.
“Harley!” I can hear rustling coming from the bed as my soon-to-be stepsister presumably pushes the boy I do not know off of her. “I didn’t – ****. I’m sorry.” More movement as she wraps the sheets around her body and shoos the boy from the room. I turn around just in time to catch his nude butt rounding the corner into the attached bathroom.
“Chloe,” I place my hands on my hip and turn my neck to the side.
“Harley, jeez. I’m so sorry! We thought you weren’t getting here until…” She stoops over and scoops up a discarded watch. “Oh, crap. Ten. It’s ten. I didn’t even realize,” She reaches up and rubs the side of her neck as a bright blush creeps over her face.
“Listen, don’t worry about it –“ I begin.
“But, don’t tell...”
“Ok, yeah. Ok, Chloe. I won’t.” I stop, attempting to regain my composure. I shake my head a few times and inhale. “I don’t care about that, I just need to borrow money from you.”
Chloe pauses in the middle of picking up the clothes on the floor and eyes me. “What for?”
“A cab?!” I throw my arms in the air and give her an incredulous glare. “No, a stripper. What’re you serious?”
Chloe stifles a laugh before nodding her head and dropping the clothes on the bed. “Right, sorry.” She continues to giggle as she walks into the bathroom and lowers her voice to a whisper. I can hear her hissing into the shower. “Gusti,” She’s saying. “It’s ok, she’s coo. You can come out.” For a brief moment I wonder where my 16 year old soon-to-be stepsister found such a vulnerable little puppy dog of a boy. And as he enters the room I nearly choke on my own breath. He stands at a measly 5’6” compared to Chloe’s staggering 5’8”. His cheeks are so red they’re nearly purple and his head is lowered to me as though I’m his kindergarten teacher that’s just scolded him for speaking without raising his hand. “Gusti,” Chloe steps between the two of us and lowers her eyes to “Gusti’s” height. “She needs to borrow some money…” She stops and pecks his cheek. “Can I just borrow some? I haven’t got any on me,” I instantly notice that I can actually understand what Chloe is saying. Her German is cute and slow and with a few context clues I’ve helped myself to realize what’s going on. I want to applaud myself but refrain as Gustav pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and hands me a pair of 20 euro bills. I smile brightly at him and charge down the stairs and outside into the rain, stopping short the second I do.
“****!” I shout at the top of my lungs as Chloe runs to the door, her pin straight long black hair billowing behind her.
“What?!” She says, still holding the sheets tightly around her body. “What is it?”
I stomp my feet hard, still cursing the too small Prada boots. “That jerk just drove away with all my luggage,” I whine, pressing my fingers into my temples as hard as I can.
Of all the horribly horrible vacations. Twelve hours into my summer vacation and this one takes the cake.
1ONE1
Of all the horribly horrible vacations that I have ever taken in my horrible 18 years of existence: this one takes the cake. There is not a single vacation on earth that could suck as hard as the first ten hours of this disgustingly out-of-whack vacation have. There is no one location in the world that Mom and her newest beau, Fred, could take me that would render me as utterly ****** off and speechless as standing here, on the corner of a random German street, in Germany (no ****) with nothing but my brand new leather jacket draped over my head as a make-shift awning to protect my meticulously styled chestnut bob.
I should have known the moment the pilot had come over the loudspeaker in JFK airport mumbling something about a rain delay. I should’ve known after the first hour of sitting in seat A row 32 with a screaming baby on my right and a snoring man on my left that, even if the plane took off in the following 10 minutes, the vacation was already screwed. But no, I had tramped on. I had thought about how liberating it had been when I typed my Visa card number into expedia.com and selected the flight to Berlin. And yet, all the great thoughts in the world couldn’t get me out of the predicament I was currently in.
“Taxi!” I scream, allowing my one free arm to flail out from underneath the leather jacket that is practically groaning underneath the strain of the ever-pounding sheets of rain. I stomp my feet and curse my luck, or rather, my stupidity. My feet are in pure pain. I can feel the blisters popping up on the heels of my feet and all I want to do is cry and get on the next flight home. I shuffle my feet, attempting to lessen the ache, but all I manage to do is step into a foot deep puddle, forever ruining my suede Prada boots that I’d bought two sizes too small just for the sheer brand name. “Never again,” I mutter to myself as a bolt of lightning cracks across the sky and I jump back in horror, knocking over my two pink plastic suitcases. “Crap, crap, crap.” I groan as a pair of headlights race towards me in the night.
“Taxi!” I cry out again, completely forgetting the German word for taxi. Or is it taxi? Either which way, I’m pretty positive a shouting foreigner in the streets is the universal sign for taxi in any given country. I sigh a breath of relief as a crappy white vehicle crawls to a stop in front of me. The window squeaks down just far enough for me to lean off of the curb and peak in, my green eyes poking out from beneath my now soaking wet bangs.
“Here,” I reach in my pocket and retrieve a piece of stationary, momentarily scoffing at the small doodles mom had etched into the corners moments before my departure. “Go here,” I can see the rain has damaged the writing, allowing the chicken scratch in blue pen to snake its way down the majority of the pink paper. The cabbie grunts and pops the trunk, leaving me to do the rest.
Having completely given up on my overall appearance I open the back door, throw my destroyed leather jacket in the back and tug the two pieces of luggage with me around the side of the cab just as another piece of **** car flashes by, covering me with murky puddle water. “Are you ****ing kidding me?” I groan, half laughing at the concept of it all. I toss the two pieces of luggage into the trunk, not caring if they bust open and actually hoping they will just for the story. I climb in the backseat, raking a hand through my hair and marveling at the way it stands up straight. My white washed jeans are soaked to a nearly dark denim aside from one elegantly placed patch of dryness between my legs. My toes are threatening to bust through the tips of my sopping wet suede boots at any moment and my white shirt is clung so tightly to my chest I momentarily glance in the rearview mirror just to make sure the cabbie isn’t eyeing me.
I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the window and listen to the soft tapping of the excess water run off of me and onto the ugly leather seats. In my mind I begin to plot the numerous ways I am going to murder my horribly spoiled, horribly annoying, horribly clingy 16 year old soon-to-be stepsister. As if inviting her into my family wouldn’t be enough, she had to go and forget me at the airport in a foreign country. I wonder what dad will have to say about that. He’s already stressed about the upcoming nuptials, add a horrid little step-daughter on top of that and I’m pretty sure I can spice this vacation up in one go. I rub my hands together, thinking of it all, and nearly cackling out loud as I do.
“Hallo?” My eyes fly open and immediately lock with the cabbies. I sit up quickly, rubbing my eyes and looking around. “You fell asleep.” He pauses before starting again “40.83.” He says. And I’m proud of the way I understand his thick German numbers. He offers me a half smile and for a second I’m ready to return it when I notice he’s merely staring at my completely visible bra.
If only I knew the words for ‘screw off’. But instead I opt to let it go as I reach into my pockets and fish around for that 40 Euros mom had handed to me back at the airport. Nothing. I try the other pocket. Still nothing. Frantically I reach into my two back pockets and tug out the linings.
“Shoot,” I groan, smacking the heel of my palm into my forehead. It must have fallen out when I’d gotten out the address for the old dude. “No money,” I hold my thumb, pointer and middle fingers together and rub. The universal sign for “money”. I jump out of the car, holding up one finger and charging up the cobblestone walkway to the front of the villa. I knock hard on the door. Once. Twice. And step back, eyeing the meticulous gardening and the two floodlights illuminating the whole front of the villa. Dad had sent me a few pictures when they’d first bought the place, but I hadn’t imagined it to be anything like this. The roof slanted in typical European architecture and the outside of the house was a pretty cream staccato. I run my hands along the surface of the house as I continue to hold up one finger in the cabbie’s direction. Around the side I notice an open window with nothing but a screen between myself and the inside of what appears to be a study. I hoist myself up, using my tiny frame to my advantage as I scale the side of the house. I pop the screen out and jump in, glancing at the thousands of shelves full of books and reminding myself to give them a look later.
I edge my way across the hall and instantly see the kitchen, charging in and tugging open drawer on top of drawer, yet finding nothing. “Where would dad hide money,” I think aloud to myself while demolishing the kitchen and leaving a royal mess in my wake. Nothing. I process a number of thoughts and wonder which is best. Time to beg. I think to myself as I make my way towards the front door, a number of different forms of begging crossing my mind. I open the door just as a loud thud resounds throughout the house. Turning slowly on one heel I prance up the flight of mahogany stairs and creep up the dark hallway. From a door on my right a series of thuds as well as pounding music is permeating throughout the hollowed corridors. I walk closer, reaching out and grabbing the doorknob.
“A-ha!” I scream, as I charge into the room. “You little –“ I stop midsentence and scream, covering my eyes with both of my forearms and turning away as fast as possible.
“Harley!” I can hear rustling coming from the bed as my soon-to-be stepsister presumably pushes the boy I do not know off of her. “I didn’t – ****. I’m sorry.” More movement as she wraps the sheets around her body and shoos the boy from the room. I turn around just in time to catch his nude butt rounding the corner into the attached bathroom.
“Chloe,” I place my hands on my hip and turn my neck to the side.
“Harley, jeez. I’m so sorry! We thought you weren’t getting here until…” She stoops over and scoops up a discarded watch. “Oh, crap. Ten. It’s ten. I didn’t even realize,” She reaches up and rubs the side of her neck as a bright blush creeps over her face.
“Listen, don’t worry about it –“ I begin.
“But, don’t tell...”
“Ok, yeah. Ok, Chloe. I won’t.” I stop, attempting to regain my composure. I shake my head a few times and inhale. “I don’t care about that, I just need to borrow money from you.”
Chloe pauses in the middle of picking up the clothes on the floor and eyes me. “What for?”
“A cab?!” I throw my arms in the air and give her an incredulous glare. “No, a stripper. What’re you serious?”
Chloe stifles a laugh before nodding her head and dropping the clothes on the bed. “Right, sorry.” She continues to giggle as she walks into the bathroom and lowers her voice to a whisper. I can hear her hissing into the shower. “Gusti,” She’s saying. “It’s ok, she’s coo. You can come out.” For a brief moment I wonder where my 16 year old soon-to-be stepsister found such a vulnerable little puppy dog of a boy. And as he enters the room I nearly choke on my own breath. He stands at a measly 5’6” compared to Chloe’s staggering 5’8”. His cheeks are so red they’re nearly purple and his head is lowered to me as though I’m his kindergarten teacher that’s just scolded him for speaking without raising his hand. “Gusti,” Chloe steps between the two of us and lowers her eyes to “Gusti’s” height. “She needs to borrow some money…” She stops and pecks his cheek. “Can I just borrow some? I haven’t got any on me,” I instantly notice that I can actually understand what Chloe is saying. Her German is cute and slow and with a few context clues I’ve helped myself to realize what’s going on. I want to applaud myself but refrain as Gustav pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and hands me a pair of 20 euro bills. I smile brightly at him and charge down the stairs and outside into the rain, stopping short the second I do.
“****!” I shout at the top of my lungs as Chloe runs to the door, her pin straight long black hair billowing behind her.
“What?!” She says, still holding the sheets tightly around her body. “What is it?”
I stomp my feet hard, still cursing the too small Prada boots. “That jerk just drove away with all my luggage,” I whine, pressing my fingers into my temples as hard as I can.
Of all the horribly horrible vacations. Twelve hours into my summer vacation and this one takes the cake.