I have now been traveling the globe for the past three months, and everyday for the past three months I have had the same fucking conversation at least ten times. It's inevitable. Nobody wants to have this conversation. It just happens. I do it myself; and every time I feel the words shitting out of my mouth, I get a little bit more pissed off that I sound fucking more like fucking Cilla Black. My life is a constant meet and greet, cut from the same mould as Blind Date. "What's your name and where do you come from?" To be honest, I don't care what the answer is. Within two seconds I will have forgotten it completely and your bearded, gappy face will have melted and merged with the other bearded, gappy faces I have already had the displeasure of encountering.
It has even got to the point where I hate the sound of my own travel plans. If I hear myself say the words, "I'm gonna drive up through California to Portland and then swing down to Colorado" again, I'm going to swing for the nearest person who has just asked me what I'm doing next. And what the fuck does "swing" even mean? Am I going to leap between the trees whilst hanging from vines like that "Show Me the Beef" kid did in the latest joke of an Indiana Jones movie? No. Just no.
Even once you have spent enough time with a person that you can move past the whos and wheres, the conversation will almost certainly descend into the abyss of travelers' verbal diahorrea that is- kids TV. Does anybody honestly remember that Knightmare was essentially just a very suspect man, inviting young children into his dungeon and asking them to play with his helmet?
The show was essentially just a shitter version of your favourite RPG on your Amiga, and it was also accompanied by the irksome soundtrack of little scrotes shouting out the lyrics to the latest dance-craze-party-song, "Sidestep left, walk forward, take a small step to your right, pick up the key".
The other day we finally had a heated/drunken debate with another girl about the implications of the potential assassination of Barack Obama. A wonderful occurrence, which also provided the opportunity for me to utter the words "Don't be a twat!" to the girl (who I'd known for just one afternoon) when she was essentially being a twat and trying her hand at being very patronising. Sweet relief. Please send me more douche-bags I can argue with and save me from the niceties. Jack Collins
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