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I am an unusual American. I am one of the 10% of our population who is in posession of a passport. This means I tend to take vacations outside of the USA whenever I can.
If only I knew then what I know now. I would never have got on that plane.
I admit it, I am a bit of a wild boy at heart. I seek out the racier side of life. I participate in extreme sports such as skiing, paragliding, bobsledding, motor racing, mountaineering and the like. And after participating, I like to party hard. Which is why I was so keen to go to Europe - the party capital of the world. So when the time came to book last summer's vacation I did plenty of research.
After much thought I had an itinerary planned. I would go first to London, then to Amsterdam, and finally, Faliraki on the Greek island of Rhodos. These destinations promised to be the most balls-out fast-living party towns, and I chose them in order to educate myself about European culture.
I was sadly disappointed.
Later that night I needed to make a call to the office in NYC. So I went to a public call box. It was disgusting. Someone had used it as a urinal, and there were prostitutes advertisments everywhere.
On my second night I went to a 'garage night' to find out about the latest UK music. Unfortunately someone pulled a gun (despite the UK's ridiculously strict gun laws) and the club got shut down. So much for my party plans. So much for London.
So I flew into Schiphol. The first thing that hit me about the Netherlands was how tall everyone is. Even the women are all 6' or over. This immediately put me on the defensive. Call me prejudiced if you like, but I just don't like tall people. Anyway as I arrived in Schiphol, they asked to see my passport. What the fuck ? Is this Europe or not I already showed my damn passport in the UK, but this Nazi wants to see it again. (Imagine showing your passport if you went to Hoboken from NYC). I pointed this out to the customs guy but he just made some comment in Dutch that sounded like he was clearing his throat, and sent me on my way.
Not wanting to waste any time, I took the train to Amsterdam Centraal, where I immediately started looking for a 'coffee shop' so I could smoke some weed and immerse myself in Dutch culture. I soon found the 'Grasshopper' just off Damrak and proceeded to get stoned on 'super skunk'. It was then I noticed the almost total lack of Dutch people in the place. Indeed they all seemed to be British or American. What the Fuck ? I thought. I didn't travel 4000 miles to meet Americans. I could have stayed in the US and gone to Epcot.
Feeling pissed, I walked out and inadvertantly stumbled into the Red Light district. Now I am a real party animal, and pretty broadminded, but that place was just sick. Women were on display like goods in a department store. There were sex shops on every corner selling all kinds of pornography and sex related paraphenalia. And the more I wandered around, the more lost I became. In my attempt to leave the area I was disgusted again to see a whole street dedicated to 'she-males' and 'lady-boys'. By this time I was pretty tired so I stopped off at a bar called 'Cassa Rossa', but too late I realised I had stumbled into a live sex show.
Before I could leave I had seen actual live copulation on stage between a bored looking woman and an improbably endowed man in a scene of such seedy depravity I can hardly bring myself to describe it. I could not believe my eyes. Nothing like this would be allowed to happen in America, and I could not help but wonder how the Europeans get their reputation for sophistication. When I finally managed to orient myself out of the Red Light district I walked back to my hotel along the Prinsengracht canal, where I saw another sight disgusting to any American. A man was openly urinating in the street. Now, I've drank my fair share in the past, but I have never sunk so low as to urinate in public. What is it with these Dutch people. Do they have no sense of shame ?
The next day I felt a sense of relief as I went back to Schiphol for my flight to Rhodes.
I had picked Faliraki in Rhodes because of its reputation as a party town, the availability of watersports. I had hoped for a picturesque Greek village. The reality was somewhat different. Once again the main language was English, and again it seems I had been followed by busloads of English youngsters. Normally this would not be a problem, but when you find out how these people behave you will realise why I will never set foot in Europe again.
First thing I did on arrival at my hotel in Faliraki was use the bathroom. Now you may find this hard to believe, but in 2001 in a modern European country, you may not flush toilet paper down the bowl. You actually have to wipe and put the paper in a small wastepaper basket at the side of the bowl. Can you believe this ? The stinking wastebin stays in your room unemptied for days, the stench of faeces and excrement slowly permeating all your posessions and posing a health hazard to all.
I immediately asked to see the manager only to be informed that I was an 'American malacca(?)' I am not sure of the exact word but it did not sound friendly.
Since I was only there for a few days and I did not want to be beaten up by a bunch of in-bred Greek mafia types, I decided not to make a fuss, and went down to the beach.
There I was met with a scene of utter depravity. Hundreds of British people in various states of undress lying around on the beach, or swimming or playing beach games. Some of these topless nymphettes can only have been aged about sixteen. The one thing the British girls all seemed to have in common was a desire to flaunt their breasts to all and sundry.
As I walked along the beach I started to wonder if maybe I was wrong, and that the American attitude to nudity was somehow flawed, but then a trio of big breasted blonde British girls bounced past and I realised how unworkable the topless approach would be in the US.
My theory is that all the British men are secretly gay which is why they don't care that their women are putting on slutty displays for anyone to see.
I had come to see another culture, that's exactly what I saw. The culture of the British 'lager lout' and 'ladette'. My suspicions about the morals of the British were confirmed later that evening when I attended a local bar. As the evening wore on, the British got progressively more and more drunk. There was vomiting, broken glass, fighting and yet more exposed breasts as the DJ encouraged the British and whipped them up into a sexualized frenzy. I would not be surprised if some of them had taken Ecstacy or other stimulants.
I sampled the local cocktail (a "fishbowl") which was utterly disgusting, and then a British girl started coming on to me. I explained that I was married and she said "Oi won't tell if yew don't, come on lets go for a quick shag. Moi mates not in arrr room" (she had the most disgusting and almost unintelligible "cockney" accent).
Well I don't know if it was the alcohol or the heat or if the culture shock had corrupted my judgment, but I soon found myself back at her hotel room, naked.
Now I am not a prude. In my past I have had sexual relations with many ladies. But this was the first time I had experienced such a depraved approach. I don't know what it is about British girls but it is like they are sex-starved or something. (perhaps its because most British men are gay!) anyway Chantelle (that was her name) from East London gave me some of the most energetic sex I have ever had. But it gets worse. Just as I was struggling with the guilt of what I had just done, and how I had betrayed my wife, who should walk in on us but Chantelle's friend Lisa (also from Dagenham, East London). She took one look at us both lying there naked and without batting an eyelid said 'Moind if oi join yer ?' and started to strip off.
By this time I was sobering up and full of remorse about what I had done. So I didn't want to compound the sin by indulging in a three-way with these two Dick Van Dykes (I am broad minded, but there ARE limits!) So I quickly pulled on my pants, grabbed my shirt and ran for the door.
Unfortunately I had picked the wrong door, but that was the least of my troubles. As I went through the door into what I later realised was the bathroom, I tripped over my shoelace and fell face forward onto the 'waste bin' provided in all Greek bathrooms. It had not been emptied for quite a while and I was covered in used TP.
The doctor who examined me the next day and gave me a tetanus shot said that such incidents were not as uncommon as you would think. She also went on and on about how unruly and rude the British are as a race.
As an American party-animal I was disgusted with Europe. I expected sophistication, fine wines, stimulating conversation and highbrow culture. I found nothing like it in Europe. Europe is simply a depraved cesspit when compared with the USA. Their people have the morals of alley cats and their hygeine is worse than that of the prehistoric cave men. I would rather shoot myself than ever return to that godforsaken country.
I learned that the British are amongst the worse mannered, uncultured, ignorant and violent people in Europe (despite having stiff competition from the Dutch, Greeks and Germans). I would not recommend Europe as a vacation destination to anyone, with one exception - If you are a pasty-faced, music-stealing, port-scanning, quake-playing, pearl-skr1pt writing, communist loving, freedom hating Linux geek who cannot get laid, you could do worse than go to Faliraki and try your luck "chatting up the birds". Just don't get yourself arrested