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- a member for 20 years, 7 months and 17 days
- has posted 341 messages on the main board
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- has posted 29 messages on the talk board
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- has posted 6 stories and 4 replies on question of the week
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» Airport Stories
What's going on
This happened a couple of years ago, when I went to pick up a friend at Dusseldorf International. It was pretty late at night and the airport was almost empty already. I was waiting for my friend outside the gate, when I noticed there were a couple of suspicious looking guys, all with big black shoulder strap bags, loitering in the corners of the waiting hall. They all stood several yards apart from each other, which was weird because they all seemed to know each other, as from time to time one would casually walk over to one of the others, mumble a couple of words and walk back. Anyway, the next plane arrived and I rushed towards the doors to check if I could spot my friend. Then all of a sudden I was surrounded by maybe twenty guys, all in their twenties, all tanned, all wearing the same suits and ties and black overnight bags. At this moment all hell broke loose. The suspicious looking guys from the waiting area whipped out cameras from their big black bags and frantically started taking photos of us, it was flashlights everywhere. I was totally confused and asked two of the suit guys in my crowd if they had any idea what was going on here. They gave me broad grins and nodded: "Yess! Ve arre Real Madrid!"
(Fri 3rd Mar 2006, 12:15, More)
What's going on
This happened a couple of years ago, when I went to pick up a friend at Dusseldorf International. It was pretty late at night and the airport was almost empty already. I was waiting for my friend outside the gate, when I noticed there were a couple of suspicious looking guys, all with big black shoulder strap bags, loitering in the corners of the waiting hall. They all stood several yards apart from each other, which was weird because they all seemed to know each other, as from time to time one would casually walk over to one of the others, mumble a couple of words and walk back. Anyway, the next plane arrived and I rushed towards the doors to check if I could spot my friend. Then all of a sudden I was surrounded by maybe twenty guys, all in their twenties, all tanned, all wearing the same suits and ties and black overnight bags. At this moment all hell broke loose. The suspicious looking guys from the waiting area whipped out cameras from their big black bags and frantically started taking photos of us, it was flashlights everywhere. I was totally confused and asked two of the suit guys in my crowd if they had any idea what was going on here. They gave me broad grins and nodded: "Yess! Ve arre Real Madrid!"
(Fri 3rd Mar 2006, 12:15, More)
» Party Tricks and Secret Talents
the perks of having been a nerdy child
Working in advertising I once attended a meeting where our "creative director" suggested giving customers a discount on car deals if they can perform one of a set of impossible tasks at the dealership.
"Like what?", I asked.
"Well there's that little town in Britain with an incredibly long name that's basically just random letters thrown together. No one will be able to spell that without help! Wait, I'll google it!"
And so he did. I walked over to his desk, ran my fingers across his screen and pretended to memorize every letter. Then I walked away, put my hand over my eyes and started spelling:
"L - L - A - N - F - A - I - R - P - W - L - L - G - W - Y - N - G - Y - L - L - G - O - G - E - R - Y - C - H - W - Y - R - N - D - R - O - B - W - L - L - L - L - A - N - T - Y - S - I - L - I - O - G - O - G - O - G - O - C - H".
The idea was buried and he still calls me a freak to this day. I never told him that I had memorized that bitch as a kid, out of pure boredom during a family holiday in Wales.
(Tue 19th May 2015, 11:02, More)
the perks of having been a nerdy child
Working in advertising I once attended a meeting where our "creative director" suggested giving customers a discount on car deals if they can perform one of a set of impossible tasks at the dealership.
"Like what?", I asked.
"Well there's that little town in Britain with an incredibly long name that's basically just random letters thrown together. No one will be able to spell that without help! Wait, I'll google it!"
And so he did. I walked over to his desk, ran my fingers across his screen and pretended to memorize every letter. Then I walked away, put my hand over my eyes and started spelling:
"L - L - A - N - F - A - I - R - P - W - L - L - G - W - Y - N - G - Y - L - L - G - O - G - E - R - Y - C - H - W - Y - R - N - D - R - O - B - W - L - L - L - L - A - N - T - Y - S - I - L - I - O - G - O - G - O - G - O - C - H".
The idea was buried and he still calls me a freak to this day. I never told him that I had memorized that bitch as a kid, out of pure boredom during a family holiday in Wales.
(Tue 19th May 2015, 11:02, More)
» World's Most Hated Food
Dill.
I never liked dill. Ok, so far that's nothing special. But a couple of years ago the dill's wrath really turned on me.
I was planning a holiday in France and needed cash. Only job I could find was in a cucumber factory - I had to put a handful of dill in every jar that came along on the conveyor belt. Thousands of jars an hour. The smell was disgusting. On the last day before my holidays I just couldn't stand it anymore, the stink made me sick. So I thought "fuck the jars, I gotta get out of here", went outside, sat down and started puking.
What I didn't know was that the pile of pallets I was sitting on was exactly the place where the fresh jars were delivered to.
I didn't hear the fork lift coming because I was busy puking.
The driver couldn't see me because he had two thousand jars right in front of his face. Which he unloaded straight onto my lap.
If he hadn't heard me screaming I'd be dead now.
Needless to say the holidays had to be cancelled. Fucking dill, eh? Today I can still identify the tiniest amount of the devilish ingredient in any dish, rendering it literally inedible for me.
(Mon 12th Jul 2004, 19:08, More)
Dill.
I never liked dill. Ok, so far that's nothing special. But a couple of years ago the dill's wrath really turned on me.
I was planning a holiday in France and needed cash. Only job I could find was in a cucumber factory - I had to put a handful of dill in every jar that came along on the conveyor belt. Thousands of jars an hour. The smell was disgusting. On the last day before my holidays I just couldn't stand it anymore, the stink made me sick. So I thought "fuck the jars, I gotta get out of here", went outside, sat down and started puking.
What I didn't know was that the pile of pallets I was sitting on was exactly the place where the fresh jars were delivered to.
I didn't hear the fork lift coming because I was busy puking.
The driver couldn't see me because he had two thousand jars right in front of his face. Which he unloaded straight onto my lap.
If he hadn't heard me screaming I'd be dead now.
Needless to say the holidays had to be cancelled. Fucking dill, eh? Today I can still identify the tiniest amount of the devilish ingredient in any dish, rendering it literally inedible for me.
(Mon 12th Jul 2004, 19:08, More)
» Old stuff I still know
560932
was the phone number of my first secret crush in 1981. Of course I never ever dared to call her, but I spent so much time with my finger hovering over the dial, thinking "shall I? SHALL I?" that her number will be in my head forever. Saw her again at a school reunion last year and out of all the girls she was the only one who is still hot and smart and likeable after all these years. Sigh.
(Fri 1st Jul 2011, 10:28, More)
560932
was the phone number of my first secret crush in 1981. Of course I never ever dared to call her, but I spent so much time with my finger hovering over the dial, thinking "shall I? SHALL I?" that her number will be in my head forever. Saw her again at a school reunion last year and out of all the girls she was the only one who is still hot and smart and likeable after all these years. Sigh.
(Fri 1st Jul 2011, 10:28, More)
» Scary Neighbours
Scary but dead
My ex-neighbour upstairs once threw a set of car tyres out of his kitchen window into our garden. He had forgotten to open the window first though. He's dead now. Jumped from the scaffolding of our house. Probably looking for his tyres.
(Fri 26th Aug 2005, 0:04, More)
Scary but dead
My ex-neighbour upstairs once threw a set of car tyres out of his kitchen window into our garden. He had forgotten to open the window first though. He's dead now. Jumped from the scaffolding of our house. Probably looking for his tyres.
(Fri 26th Aug 2005, 0:04, More)