Chapter One: Europe
<<< In the cab leaving Dublin for the airport you had the obligatory trip rundown with your cabbie. Getting chummy with your fare is a
common rule of thumb for drivers. Make the customer like you as a person and they'll be less inclined to stiff you come reckoning time. The
racap is the easiest method for this. It's sortof a reverse itinerary. He'll ask if you saw the Guinness Factory. You'll describe the mixed bag
that is a hostel, but, all in all, your Scottish roommates were pretty cool. You won't tell him that the first meal you had in Dublin was from
Subway, instead you'll mention it took longer than you'd expected to find a place that served shepherd's pie a day later.
Full Page: Part One.
<<< Well, because nothing says "Buddy, you will be missed" quite like getting drunk enough for it to even be possible to get punched by a
moving car.
You leave the first bar in Philadelphia long after the 6pm conclusion of a benefit for a friend who had passed away, only to go about a block
down the road for a Halloween party. People were dressed in costumes. You aren't, but it's more fun to look at them anyway. You take a few
shots trying to earn free clothing from a liqueur company even though you will never wear it.
However, this kind of full throttle inebriation can only last so long. Eventually, you must leave and you must do so while looking at your watch
and uttering something along the lines of "man, it's only 10:30."
<<< You're both aware that this will be like a short road trip. As such, you have to make yourself comfortable. At the last traffic light before
leaving town he asks if you want to sit in the front and you take him up on the offer. Forgoing formalities, and probably a law or two, he asks
if you mind if he smokes. You don't mind. You don't smoke cigarettes, like ever. You had one once like three years ago, but by now, unless
your interpretation is wrong, you've entered an unholy bond with your driver far closer to Thelma & Louise than Driving Miss Daisy. Deciding
you want to get your money's worth you ask for a cigarette. He let's you pick the music.
Full Page: Chapter Three.
Chapter Four: Night of the Living Dead.
<<< When you arrive in Amsterdam, it's a bit like a circus. Well, that's not altogether accurate. It's worse. It's better. You lose the ability to
be surprised which makes it like Vegas, but although it's clearly built for tourism, it's been around longer so it feels less manufactured.
On the first night, you walked to the hostel that was closer to the red light district than their ad indicated. When you reached the historical
canals you were promptly peed on by a naked water fountain in the shape of a boy. The red light aspect of the city was every bit like it's
been described to you. Indeed there were women in windows advertising their goods. They looked bored for the most part. One was eating
Pringles.
What stuck with you was some of the zombies walking around the city. They were presumably normal people looking straight ahead unable
to focus on anything in particular. They would walk into things, their clothes a mess. Oblivious, the town had picked them up and spit them
out. You didn't feel bad for them per se. There was a good chance they got exactly what they bargained for. Still, you wondered exactly
what needs to happen for a person to end up like that.
Full Page: Part Four
Editor's Note: Somebodyisfromhere.com has recently dedicated a lot of thought to the idea of creating a narrative for his site. He likes his individual pieces, but
he wanted to find a way to string together a series of articles for those who were new to the site or for those who wanted to explore a bit more thoroughly. Sure, the
search option in the top corner of the front page works. Sure, he also tries to link old stories with comparable new ones. Atop the first page, he created sections like
entertainment, photos, etc. It's all golden. Yet, Somebodyisfromhere.com is inexhaustible and he wanted more. So he came up with the "In Between Cabs..."
section. Somebodyisfromhere.com has been in his share of cabs. He's been in Mercedes cabs in Europe. He's been in those charming British boxes. He's been
in the old yellows. He's been in cabs in foreign countries where it's fairly standard to have to write down the address or otherwise you'll end up somewhere
disastrously far off. More than anything else, he just has some pretty bleepin' weird cab stores and, most importantly, he recognizes traveling is what happens in
between cabs.
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somebodyisfromhere.com
The destination destination.
Chapter Two: Friends and Benefits.
Chapter Three: The Long Ride.
Chapter Five: Making Friends is Easy.
<<< As you walk into the casino wearing a tuxedo you feel a bit like Danny Ocean. Don't worry. It may sound pretentious, but you're
actually coming from a wedding. Sure, you had time to change after the event, but...ok, well, it might be a little pretentious.
You're seated at your first table game. Blackjack. You want to buy in a little higher than normal because of the tux. You aren't willing to lose
that much, of course, but you want to show it. Surely enough, the table goes about as you had hoped. You lose a little at first and then you
win it back and you get as far away from that table as possible.
You do the same thing with roulette. All in all, you're pretty pleased with yourself. You've managed to not bankrupt yourself and you look
pretty snazzy doing it. That's when you realize it's not James Bond you look like. No, you look pretty much like a card dealer.