Hillbilly Travelogue: Area of Concern Edition.
UPDATED because this is very important business
This week, I will return to proper reportage on our Central/Eastern European trip, finally getting to Poland, which was both the most fun and most traumatic part of the trip (we loved Poland’s people, weather, and buildings, but we also spent a day at Auschwitz-Birkenau…).
Meanwhile, here are the pictures I took expressly for the purpose of making fun of innocent people and mannequins in far-away nations. Wholesome old-fashioned good times.
Rupert and I were in Prague, walking along on some quiet back street admiring the views, and then we saw this, and were glad we were far enough away from our previous meal, and our next meal, and all meals ever.
Yes, that is an orange loincloth over panties, topped with a short, sassy tunic. This individual did not appear to be homeless – a little too well-fed for that – but she sure as hell spent a long time washing something in that fountain. I think it was a bong, no lie.
This was in Vienna:
That is so gay that even gay men look at it and say, “Dude, that’s so gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that).”
But forget the delicate little foot and the boy-panties and the sassy hand on the hip. None of that matters and it’s probably being marketed to gays anyway so what do I care. What I do care about is whether there is anyone out there who can look at that mannequin’s hair and not want to do a running spin-kick at it? To knock it right off of there? Because it is not 1991 and we are not in a Color Me Badd video?
Back in Prague, this:
I would leave this girl and her overexposed bra strap alone, except do you see her left hand? This was a crowded sidewalk and she was walking too slowly, talking on her phone, while swinging that left hand in a wide Arc of Death.
Totally and blissfully oblivious to every other human on the planet and the needs of those humans, such as to get around her without being punched in the crotch.
We found this next dude when we came downstairs from our room in Warsaw at about 9:30 on Sunday morning. Interesting thing is, the door he had to enter to get to his cozy nap spot was locked all night, so he was out walking around drunk until at least 8 a.m. Thus I have no pity.
We did check to see that he was alive, and if you must know, we actually tried not to slam the door and the gate. Don’t ask why; we actually felt a little sorry for the poor asshole. When we came back from breakfast an hour later to get our map, he had shifted into the fetal position. When we came back an hour after that to get our bags for checkout, he was gone. Hope he had a refreshing and rewarding nap on the concrete.
I saved the best for last. We were on a tram in Vienna, trying to go around the Ringstrasse but we got on the wrong tram, blah blah, all I know is we ended up a little south of the city center and when we came to a stop to pick up more passengers, we heard hysterical screaming outside. There was some sort of Unruly Incident happening such that we could hear yelling, screaming, and crying, and a bunch of people were standing out there staring, but we couldn’t see what it was because the doors closed too fast for us to peek.
As we pulled away, our window passed the source of the screaming, and sure enough, we saw exactly what we’d both suspected: seriously fucked-up druggies. There was a woman sitting on the ground screaming at the top of her lungs, and I looked in her face as we went by and she was not there. If you’ve never seen crackheads or heroin users or whatnot when they’re really out of it, be glad because it’s like looking at something that was a human at some point but is not now. It’s all in the eyes, or rather I should say, it’s nothing in the eyes.
There was a “man”, and I use that word very loosely, standing over her and clearly being the source of her agitation.
He and she both were clearly the recipients of that famous and awesome European welfare state. You don’t want people to be Left Behind, after all. Don’t want them to have Unequal Opportunities. Don’t want them to be squashed by ye olde Evil Capitalist Regime.
So the tram started to move but then stopped suddenly, plainly not at a scheduled stop, but about 10 seconds after pulling away from the freaks. It was FASCINATING to see what happened next.
Apparently, the Viennese passengers on the tram knew that the sudden unexpected stop had to do with the screaming druggies at the previous normal stop, so when we suddenly slowed down, every single passenger in our view sprung out of their seats and either got off the tram and ran away – literally – or moved far away from the door the screamers had been closest to.
Obviously, I mean seriously what do you expect – Rupert and I didn’t move. As you may know, Rupert is a retired Army Captain, and even after neck surgery (the one-year-mark of which we celebrated while in Prague a few days earlier), he could easily break the face of any punk-ass dipshit on a dipshit tram, are you kidding?
United States Army training versus Austrian crackhead skillz? Please. Even if dumbfuck crackhead had a knife or a gun, honestly…if you know what I mean then you know what I mean; otherwise just be quiet.
So we sat and watched with bemusement and that’s not really any kind of poetic license. We both were genuinely bemused.
It seems the male half of the druggie shit-for-brains duo had pulled some alarm that made the tram stop, and when it did, he climbed aboard, about 10 feet behind me and Rupert. This is when everyone bailed, who hadn’t already bailed when the tram slowed down. All that was left in our tram-car was me, Rupert, and maybe four decent-looking, stern folks behind us, including a 30-something woman with a leashed 60-poundish black dog, who was going ABSOLUTELY APE-SHIT.
Dude boarded the car and the first thing I saw was the crescent-shaped blue streak of paint on his face, right around his mouth and nose. Ahhh. Now it made sense. A paint-huffer. Like his girlfriend, there was nothing in his eyes. I mean nothing. Honestly, if you’ve not seen this sort of thing before, there are no words to describe it.
He stumbled up the aisle towards us, while Rupert calmly handed me his cell phone and sunglasses and hotel keys, murmuring that I should put them in my purse in case he had to kick this guy’s ass. I admit it was a turn-on. All I’m saying is, I looked around the tram car, and it was clear to me that if this paint-huffer was going to cause trouble, it was between him and Rupert. Everyone else was petrified – literally cowering, something I have not seen before in my whole life – and I do not make this up for dramatic effect.
If I wanted to make this shit up, I could do it constantly since moving to the UK over 5 months ago. The truth is, this was the first time in my life I saw healthy adults flee from this sort of “threat”. I mean dude was a paint-huffer. And wait till you see the picture. It isn’t a judgment, it’s just what happened.
The woman with the dog even looked petrified, though her awesome dog did not, to its credit. Frankly I nearly stole her dog from her after this was all over.
Paint Huffer Dipshit stumbled to our position and of course, there he stopped, and his ass happened to be aimed right at Rupert’s face. Do you have questions re: what Rupert did to remedy this? You know it involved an assured elbow performing a simple, hearty American shove. Paint Huffer was propelled forward about 10 feet, away from us. All I know is, if Rupert weren’t already my husband right then, I would have made him so whether he liked it or not.
Paint Huffer found himself in grasping range of the emergency stop handle-thingy. Which I’m guessing one does not pull lightly in Vienna, because when he grabbed it and yanked it down with focused passion, everyone in the tram car except Rupert pretty much shit their pants. I may have done so myself but I was too busy taking a picture because that’s when I realized Dipshit not only had paint all over his huffing face, he was also wearing a skirt and a halter-top, presumably stolen from his girlfriend, which is probably why she was screaming.
Fuckface held onto that emergency stop-thing until the tram came to a stop, during which time everyone on the tram except for Rupert, like I said, shit their pants, except one older man I noticed behind us. When Paint Huffer pulled the emergency handle, Rupert stood up, prepared to break a face as it seemed the need would be. Almost instantly after that, this older guy also stood up. He was maybe 70 years old…Rupert is 37…but I think this older guy was just glad to finally see someone stand up. He never had any idea it was an American doing so, as we never spoke out loud.
The tram stopped and Paint Huffer disembarked loudly and huffily, with Rupert and the barking dog and the 70-year-old man the only things between psychosis and civilization. The tram had to come to a complete “legal” stop apparently, and PaintFace was shortly arrested.
It fucked up the entire train schedule, along with a lightning strike that cut out the electricity. Gah. We had to walk more than a mile back toward the city center in the rain. I was wearing sandals. Awesome!
Whatever – so I just thought…here we are in a city called Vienna, which most people on this planet would think more civilized and cultured than any city in America, but I just cannot fathom this scene going down in America the same way. Can you? Am I being an asshole?
No, I’m not. What happened is what happened. Draw conclusions as you wish, on either side of the story.
I feel this post should end with a photograph of a dog. I tried to take a picture of the dog on the tram who wanted to kill Paint Huffer so bad, but it was too blurry.
So instead how about a cat? A Polish cat. I will post about Poland tomorrow and probably should put this cat in his proper Krakow context, but the fact is, I want to cheer this post up and how better to do that than with this asshole cat?
Tell me he isn’t pretty and summery and green-eyed, and that he doesn’t know how to curve his tail up craftily and saucily like a cat supermodel. Just tell me. You can’t, and I think you know that I know you can’t.
UPDATE: First of all, my very own Dad caught something regarding the kitteh that no one else did, including me, and I LOL’ed:
So, that’s what a ‘polecat’ looks like.
Heh.
Secondly, there is debate in the comments about the gender assignment of the individual in the orange loincloth.
I actually had a whole paragraph in the draft of this post about that very issue. I even referred to the person as “It” and wondered about how when something is named “It”, interestingly, you would finally get to use a hyphen for the possessive. It’s gender is mysterious. It washed It’s bong in the fountain. Oh the rush of rule exceptions!
Anyway, I deleted all that because the post was too long, but I do have another pic of It for your scrutiny.
Now that you can see the delicate sexy curve of the hips and the supple femininity of the arms, don’t you agree it’s a female?
Also we saw It’s face and though mean-looking indeed, still I’m 90% sure there’s double-X chromosome action going on.
Meow!
July 20th, 2009 at 8:26 pmESTThe chick in the fountain is displaying some serious self confidence and there’s fat hanging over the tops of her socks, but the best thing is you got a picture of the huffer. That’s hysterical!
July 20th, 2009 at 8:31 pmESTGood on you Rupert. European people are so beat down by the PC police that they rarely confront trouble lest THEY get hauled in to court. A skinny girl I know in Texas chased down a purse snatcher in the Paris Metro and retrieved her purse from the guy. Lumps on Purse-Snatcher’s head, cheers from the Parisians. When they found out she was an American they were not at all surprised. The reaction was: Oh, of course, she’s American.
July 20th, 2009 at 9:12 pmESTThat person in the fountain was female? I thought it was a male.
The picture of the paint huffing moron is great! What a fool he is.
July 20th, 2009 at 9:12 pmESTI think the halter top was a nice touch. And when you’re wearing a maxi-skirt, you don’t have to rely on any hidden gussets.
Geesh. I’m glad you guys are okay.
July 20th, 2009 at 9:15 pmESTGreat story! I’m curious as to whether any of the remaining people spoke to you?
July 20th, 2009 at 9:18 pmESTI’m pretty sure the dude at the fountain was a dude, not a chick.
If it was a chick then I’ll have to unplug my computer and hurl it out the window, and never look upon the Internet again.
July 20th, 2009 at 9:21 pmESTKudos to “Rupert,” but I do hope you guys don’t find yourselves in a similar situation, and the police show you just why the rest of the country has become such ninnies, by focusing on the elbow-shove rather than the obviously criminal spectacle of the poor, misunderstood paint-snuffer.
July 20th, 2009 at 9:54 pmESTI’ve sure seen that empty look in the eyes of druggies. *shudder* If as they the eyes are the windows to the soul, then for sure the souls of these people have been destroyed, gone. That look is just. plain. spooky.
July 20th, 2009 at 10:33 pmESTLove it, love it, LOVE it!!!! Btw, is there anything cuter than a dog dreaming? Cute little yips and barks. B/c that’s what my dog is doing right now. And now his face and paw are twitching. Awwww…..
July 20th, 2009 at 10:37 pmESTUm, things like that used to happen a lot on the subway in NYC – more so 80’s to mid 90s when crack was not yet wack and pre-Rudy and Bill Bratten. We would just pretend it wasn’t happening, or sometimes we would laugh. Unless there was a stench. That’s when you see a car with seats at rush hour. Either no AC and it’s 200 in there or, there is a very smelly homeless guy.
Love the super model kitty.
July 20th, 2009 at 10:41 pmESTThe first picture. You have NO CLUE how hard I’m laughing.
July 20th, 2009 at 11:04 pmESTThe thing at the well is what? But it’s bald. Nah. It’s a very cellulite-y dude.
The whole alpha-male Rupertness you describe is too hot. Sorry, I had to say it. Shoot me.
July 20th, 2009 at 11:17 pmESTI honestly could not finish this…it was too hilarious. So, I will post this, settle down, and try to attempt again. I was somewhere at that point where the retired Army Captain was telling you to put your glasses, or was it his glasses, into your purse.
Great, great story telling.
July 20th, 2009 at 11:21 pmESTYay for European “areas of concern.” Perhaps you should make up a category for “areas of concern” so we can locate things more easily.
I agree with the consensus that Thing 1 in first picture is a dude (not a man though). Rickl’s comment on that pic made me laugh till I cried.
Tell Rupert good job on the tram thingy in Vienna. I was in Milan several years ago and one of our party throttled 3 yobs who tried to do the old bump, shove, catch pickpocket routine. He threw one of them about 5 steps down the escalator and grabbed the second by the throat. At this point, the third moved off hastily. Perhaps the locals are easier marks than some business executive from the US of A. Of course another friend let the local female pickpockets have their run on a crowded train – all he was carrying was a hotel key when he got on, and a big smile when he left (almost wrote “when he got off” but some of you might misjudge what actually occurred).
Waiting impatiently for Poland highlights, which is why I am checking in at 12:30 a.m. local time. This was a great palate cleanser though. Just crackling writing as usual.
July 20th, 2009 at 11:41 pmEST“Arrows of Shame”
pffffft — It is a testament to Rupert(NHRN)’s manly calm that you had the presence of mind to use your camera so very, very effectively — Huffer’s skirt fabric’s kinda… pretty!
Back to the top, I wonder: wouldn’t you say that loincloth in the first pic is saffron? I’m putting my money on “Religious Ascetic” — Hindu sect? Jain? Maybe washing out his begging bowl? Ennyhoo, if that outfit is supposed to destroy his ego, I’m thinking it’s doing a pretty good job.
Kitteh has the moves. (Is that his “Blue Steel” look? Why yes, I believe it is.)
July 21st, 2009 at 12:15 amESTGreat post! I’ve been waiting since last week for your Poland post. My family is from there, but I am a Murrican. I dislike most of Warsaw (grey, grey, grey), but love Krakow.
July 21st, 2009 at 12:43 amEST“…dunno wha the hell happun, you know? i get on the train just minding my binniss not bothering anybody and lookin fine and manly in my halter top and skirt, and these crazy people just like *attacked* me, you know? so i went off on their ass, got all chuck norris and shit, and then something happun that i forget, and i wake up in jail. and then my MOM, who’s always like (finger quotes) *washing her bong* gets all pissed ’cause i’m wearing her skirt, and she won’t bail me out till her hair grows back from that time i shaved it off when she was passed out. this is *TOtally* all george boosh’s fault.”
“is the welfare check here yet? i need more paint.”
July 21st, 2009 at 1:00 amESTI also say that fountain dude is MALE. Not necessarily a man, though, lol.
July 21st, 2009 at 4:57 amESTI’m guessing Rupert was holding the fake bird above your head whilst you took cat pictures?
Blurry pictures of awesome-hippie-eating dogs are infinitely better than clear pictures of Polish Supermodel cats.
July 21st, 2009 at 5:08 amESTAh, our cultured superiors!
Daughter just got back from 10 days in Northern Italy (Milan/Florence/Camp Darby/Venice) with our Church group (yes, we’re exporting our religious gun clingers) and remarked how she’d never seen more crazy drunk folks than in Venice during the fireworks – just huge crowds of them, roaming about shouting and breaking bottles and starting fights. My Bride and I talked about how you really don’t see the level of public drunkenness in the US that you see in Europe, for two reasons, we think. One, based on our inhibited oppressed sweet-baby-jeebus-clingin’ roots is that if you are a drunkin’ idiot in public, whether it be the loud obnoxious dipshit type or the winey/cryee/blubbery type, people, i.e. everyone, will (rightly) think you are a pitiful scumbag. And Two: in Europe obnoxious crowds of drunks love to brawl and fight and bash each other over the head with bottles; all great fun and occasionally someone gets knifed. Here, however, in Gunclingyland, if you try that shit you stand a damn good chance of getting (properly) shot, which serves as a great inducer to more civilized behavior, it seems to me.
July 21st, 2009 at 5:31 amESTThe cat did make me smile.
July 21st, 2009 at 6:02 amESTI’m sure glad others have a problem with the gender assignment of the thing at the fountain. No way in hell that is a female. I also agree some religious-ness to it. What do Hari Krishnas look like?
Dear god the paint huffer. The way he’s using the tram for support, and barely hanging on the stop handle. It looks familar to me, like I’ve seen that sort of spaced-out drunk/druggie before in my European travels.
Mrs Hill: blue steel!! yes! My Biscuit who is also an oreo I should start calling Zoolander maybe.
Loved the part about Rupe(nhrn) handing you his shit fer pertectin.
July 21st, 2009 at 8:32 amESTA friend from Houston relayed this: He and his wife were vacationing somewhere in Greece largely frequented by Americans. There was one lone German couple. They visited and at some point the Germans said that they preferred to go to American’s favorite spots because “Americans fix things!”
July 21st, 2009 at 8:46 amESTSo, that’s what a ‘polecat’ looks like.
July 21st, 2009 at 9:53 amESTDad
“Gunclingyland” – how perfect is that name?
July 21st, 2009 at 9:57 amESTLove the pictures, love the story. (And sorry, but I do love that cat.) Agree that you can’t really whether the first picture is he or she.
But thought you would find it amusing that, at least at the time I write this, the ad right below this post starts “Check our train schedules”. Which made me snicker after reading about the havoc pulling the level induced.
July 21st, 2009 at 10:59 amESTSoo…
Basically, this post pretty much confirms what the rest of us unedumacated Americans have thought all along: That Europeans are stinky, wussy and pathetic. You know, stereotypes do develop for a reason…
July 21st, 2009 at 11:19 amEST[after update]
July 21st, 2009 at 12:01 pmESTOK fiiiiiiiine (whiney voice) I guess the It looks like a female. I’ll give you your XX, but I’d also wager a Y or two. or maybe X and Y. We got a lady (she’s married!) at work here, and I’ll bet your left ovary, rachel, she’s a XXY or some such weirdness.
“This is your body on drugs”
July 21st, 2009 at 12:20 pmESTAthough the “It” looks a lot like my 6′5″ bordering on obese nephew, after a second and then third look I have to agree with you, “It” is definitely of the female gender.
I wonder if she used to lift weights for East Germany back in the day.
July 21st, 2009 at 12:22 pmESTThe uh……creature in the orange loincloth…
Ewwwwwwwwwww
July 21st, 2009 at 12:39 pmESTSurely the highlight of green Prague girl is the bra tag.
T Rich: “Some of you might misjudge what actually occurred.” Too late.
polish hipster dude: Heh.
July 21st, 2009 at 3:48 pmESTThis. Post. Was. Excellent. !.
July 21st, 2009 at 5:15 pmESTmaya FTW!
July 21st, 2009 at 5:47 pmESTRachel, Rachel, Rachel…my wife and I want to tour Europe with you. The last time I cut a wide swath through the old Country, I, too, took sweet pics such as the ones you’ve shared with us here. I’ve got the drunk guy laid out on a bench in Rome, except I decided to take the extra-sick step of getting in the pic with him (complete with cackling smile on my face). Then there’s the the public sign in Sweden that said “Fartfest fur Alla.” I thought it was a weird Imam-inspired bean-eating contest (kind of funny like “Alkohole.”).
Anyway, if you and Rupert can get your schedules arranged with us, in some parallel universe, my wife and I want to party Euro-style with cameras in hand.
Thanks for the photographic stimulus package.
July 21st, 2009 at 6:05 pmESTJeez… I spill some food on my pants and can’t even wash them in public without some tourist snapping pictures.
July 21st, 2009 at 6:39 pmESTAbout the European refusal to get involved, or even close…
July 21st, 2009 at 10:54 pmESTFor a couple-three hundred years the most adventurous of Euros have left for the New World.
During that same period, the bravest of those left have died in battle. Doesn’t leave much left to confront the paint huffers and other baddies. Just a theory.
Love the Travelog, Rachel.
July 22nd, 2009 at 12:20 amESTFirst (and only) time I went to Vienna, the word that came to mind to describe the city was “decadent”, nevermind that it’s supposed to be “civilized” and “cultured” and so much durned superior to dumb ‘merica. I think what you were seeing is the definition of “decadence”.
And Rupert is the definition of “manly”. Yes, ma’am!
O.K. I know one of the main reasons for Rachel’s existence is to share the idiocies of th world (and we LOVE her for it!), but! I for one could have contentedly lived the rest of my days without seeing another picture of the orange loincloth creature. Is ‘it’ a he or a she? Meh. When a ‘person’ gets to that point, does any of us really want ‘it’ called our gender? Anyway. Please pass the eye bleach. ;o0
And I will second Honeydew that the tag on the bra is definitely the highlight of that pic!
Now on to read about Krakow!
Oh yeah, and Rupert (NHRN) is my kind of MANLY MAN!
July 22nd, 2009 at 8:31 amESTI’m just surprised Rachel didn’t write “Area of Concern” on the loincloth pic and then draw a circle around the whole thing. I am highly amused and slightly creepified.
July 22nd, 2009 at 9:21 amESTRupert = Awesome.
July 22nd, 2009 at 10:54 amESTWhat dude has cellulite like that? Even the fattest slob’s legs don’t look like that. Of course it’s a woman.
July 22nd, 2009 at 9:24 pmESTNow that you can see the delicate sexy curve of the hips and the supple femininity of the arms, don’t you agree it’s a female?
Oh man thanks for the laugh Rachel.
No, I’m not going to agree with any gender assignment on that person without more research. Its just wrong. Whatever it is.
July 23rd, 2009 at 7:40 amESTGood god, man! Why would you subject yourself to that!
July 23rd, 2009 at 8:09 amESTHave you ever seen a man with cellulite? I think it has to be a woman.
July 23rd, 2009 at 10:06 amESTThanks for clearing up the loincloth situation. Assumed intuitively it was a male until the female pronoun was used. Then I noticed the cellulite which is typically solely a female issue.
I also particularly enjoyed the idjit with her bra hanging out in back. And not only that, the TAG was exposed as well. These photos reflect a culture with a strong sense of self. Not the, I drive a Corvette and am a huge asshole, kind of egoism but the I am a huge asshole and don’t give a damn about anyone or anything kind of egoism. I’m quite pleased to see them there and not here.
My goodness, just walking the dog I tog out entirely in expedition clothing and golf visor so as not to let the neighborhood down. Gardening, same deal. Yet here are people in diapers or their girlfriend’s clothing in plain sight on a busy public street.
Have to go, streaming the chairman and the business blues interferes with wisecracking.
July 23rd, 2009 at 1:07 pmESTP. S. Post pictures of Rupert. My husband is not military but has the same mindset. The couple of times we’ve run into trouble, he immediately starts clearing out his pockets getting ready to rumble. Any thinking woman loves a he-man.
July 23rd, 2009 at 1:13 pmESTOh, I thought the funny thing about the cat was that the white markings on his forehead look like he’s giving you the finger.
Excellent post, by the way.
From a long time reader, first time poster . . .
July 23rd, 2009 at 7:04 pmESTRachel,
Even though Rupert [NHRN] is an Army type, and not Navy; please convey to him the message “BRAVO ZULU”.
From one Sheepdog to another.
Subotai Bahadur
July 24th, 2009 at 11:47 pmEST