Euros Ate My Dollars

We attempted to film a video diary of the nightmarish 24-hour bus ride from Prague to Barcelona. Upon watching it now I realize it is neither funny nor interesting. There are two reasons for this.

1. We did not have the camera on hand for the funniest moments — like when I woke Ben up to find that he had drooled all over himself.
2. We did not have the camera out for our most desperate moments. You know, the moments when you scream FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I JUST WANT TO SLEEP and violently slam your seat back as far as it will go, even though you’ve been trying to be respectful of the very old, large German man behind you but you SWEAR if he wheezes, pulls your hair, or shoves your chair ONE MORE TIME you will rip the fold-down tray off the back of your seat and WHACK HIM UPSIDE THE HEAD. It was probably best I didn’t have the camera during such moments lest I fling it out of envy at those lucky folks that were inexplicably able to sleep. Instead, I cried silent tears into my jar of Nutella.

It’s funny, though, because almost immediately after disembarking, you forget those moments of agony and convince yourself it wasn’t that bad and you’d do it again. Note to my future self, who is considering taking a 24-hour bus ride: remember that time your leg was so cramped that you could no longer feel it, and in order to mobilize it you had to wrap your hands around your thigh, lift your leg up and place it in the aisle? That wasn’t fun.

I’ll go ahead and post the vlog anyway. Perhaps my mom will like it. Or the guy that searches for “dirty keebler elves” and somehow ends up on our blog.

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