Winecone Wednesday – An American in Paris Edition

Twelve years ago I ventured forth to England to study abroad at Durham University. I landed at Heathrow Airport only to discover my luggage was missing. As I skulked toward the student bus with a teacher trying to get me to see the positive because SHOPPING (and I tried to explain a student budget with personal space issues including not wanting to borrow another’s undies), my name boomed across the PA.

Richard Chamberlain had stolen my luggage.

Ok, full disclosure, he accidentally grabbed the wrong bag because it looked exactly like mine. He likely got to his car and discovered, “Hmmm, clothing of a 19-year-old. Not mine.”

Thus began my adventure abroad. And my lesson that it’s never a disaster – it’s merely a blog topic.

So let’s winecone idiots abroad who given their home countrymen a bad name. Such as the JR-from-Dallas-like-guy, complete with his 10-gallon bucket hat, who sat through a West End production of Les Miserables crunching his bag of peanuts and throwing the shells to the floor like it was a singing dancing ballgame. (Rebels vs. Bourgeois)

Don’t deny it. As much as you want to hate it, it’s a catchy song.

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Today – Winecones for people who own big dogs and don’t bother to get them any obedience training.  (I’m dogsitting.  The big one has already chewed up a fly-swatter, the corner of a yoga mat, and my library book.  Bad words were thought.)

Editor’s note: Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t share with you the stories of my dog (who has totally been through obedience training – please note I say nothing of success/failure). But a wineconing to anyone who requests the help of a dogsitter without FULL disclosure. “We’d love to have you around. But keep your stuff locked up – the retriever retrieves. And then eats poop.” Please keep in mind, wine makes this all a lot more amusing.

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If you are going to call a passenger on a flight an asshole, make sure he is not within earshot. If you are an obese American in London, do not stand at the vending machine with all the candy bars in it and yell across the gate seating area, “This machine takes that Queen money. Gimme some of that queen money so I can get me a Snickers”

Editor’s note: To be fair, it sounds like you were correct. I bet he’s related to my theatre going friend from last decade. Let’s throw a reverse winecone at this loser – eight hours flying time and NO WINE FOR YOU! Trust me. Alcohol can only make this situation worse.

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If you are Italian, do not ask the American where the nearest Starbucks is located. You are Italian. WTF are you doing drinking Starbucks?

Editor’s note: Another disclosure – I’m first-generation American from a very I-talian father. I grew up with a big fancy espresso machine behind the bar (which was located next to the wine cellar, which was bigger than my bedroom). And my dad very much drinks “the StarBuck.” Sometimes you need the fine French blends, and sometimes winecones work just as well with two-buck-chuck. Choose your weapons wisely.

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If you are an American traveling abroad, pretend to a least give a slight shit about the culture you are in. For example, bitching about the fact that the pub doesn’t serve Budweiser nor that the fact that the beer is not freezing cold while you are in England… poor form.

Editor’s note: I spent years playing the role of cocktail waitress – flirting and networking with every damn patron in search of a Big Girl job. I hereby solemnly swear that neither I, nor anyone I worked with (to my knowledge), ever spit in anyone’s food. This does not mean it doesn’t happen. Trust me. England doesn’t do ice and the pissed off Brits may well be wineconing your beer.

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Fucktards. And fucktardiness.

Editor’s note: But how do you really feel? That being said, you know what would go well with a fucktard wineconing? A Fuckitall pill.

A huge kiss this week to the possibilities of adventure and excitement when we travel to new places – be they around the world or simply down the street.

And a major smackaroo to writers. Thanks for making me laugh and sharing your stories. Priceless. Cheers to you – another collective group hug and glass of wine for us all. (With one final winecone at writers block.)

Also – in case you couldn’t tell by the edition title – I’m a sucker for the classics.

‘Till next week, winecones and kisses!

*Leave your Winecones in the comments or email us at anervousticmotion1@gmail.com or tricia@streamoftheconscious.com and we’ll add yours next week!

PS. This your first wineconing? Welcome. Grab a glass and click here for an explanation of what in name of Jeebus’ we’re talking about.