Nate isn't the only one who looks like famous...
The following is a true account, with no names being edited to protect the innocent.
It was a brisk spring day in Budapest. I was on foot, on my way to meet the rest of the crew, Nate, Garrett, Brady, and Farrar at the subway station. As I navigated the crowded streets, alive and buzzing with the sounds of every-day commerce, I noticed a strange phenomena… I was turning heads. As I walked, people stared. “Damn, I must look good!” I thought. But these were no longer passing glances, and the scrutiny grew stronger. Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd, like pebbles on a still pond, and now people were outright stopping and pointing. Camera phones flashed. “What the hell is going on?” I wondered. People began following me as I walked, jabbering in Hungarian. I quickened my pace. My hands were now clenched in fists, a pack of quarters concealed in my right as I walked faster; on the balls of my feet now, coiled like a spring about to pop should my situation become dire and I needed to go “D-town” all over their Hungarian ass.
The entrance to the train station loomed ahead, welcoming me like an old friend. I pushed through the still growing strong and made my way to platform where the guys were waiting, staring at the entourage that was accompanying me.
I just shrugged. “Don’t ask me!” I said.
As Brady slipped his backpack off and prepared to administer a triangle choke, should it prove necessary, Nate stepped forward and began jabbering in Hungarian with the nearest local. “Bocsánat Bocsánatot kérek! Tudna segíteni? Viszlát! Viszontlátásra! Délelõtt.”
He turned back to me. “They think you are the guy on the billboard.” He said matter of factly. “Apparently you are being mistaken with a nationally known Hungarian celebrity.”
The train pulled up and we hurriedly got on… the crowd on the platform cheered as they waved goodbye. “I will be a celebrity too, after I squash rat all over this window!” Garrett declared as he began to unbutton his pants.
“Memmhafovouave!” said Farrar mumbled, through a mouthful of croissant.
“What next?” I sighed, as I leaned my head against an advertisement along the wall, mentally preparing for whatever curveball Middle Europe had to throw at me next.
posted by drew @ 3:16 PM
4 comments
4 Comments:
absolutely amazing!!!
Amazing! I was there for that picture and somehow you got every single fact wrong in your retelling of the story. I mean it is obvious that you are "Drewing" up the story a little but I expected at least 1 little fact to be correct.
Oh of all the sudden Farrar DIDNT eat every second of every day? Next you are going to tell me garrett DIDNT pull out his penis whenever possible and you DONT speak fluent hungarian.
you may want to re read the story when you are not wasted.
i stand by it as 100% accurate.
garrett only pulled out his penis once and that was at auschwitz
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