Not leavng on a jet plane
I used to have a funny-looking name on my passport that made customs people want to put their fingers up my bottom. Not long after I changed it, I was looking forward to my first anal-invasion-free overseas trip, to check out the Israeli dance scene. All went fine until my compulasory "exit interview" at the airport. The guy at the counter refused to believe there was such a thing as an Israeli dance scene, even when I showed him the CD I had just been given by Israel's top DJ (who had also helpfully got me wankered on Israelijuana on my way to the airport). I had to go into a special room for a whole battery of probing physical and motivational examinations.
To make matters worse, all the rest of the staff at the airport were amazingly gorgeous girls in army uniforms, all of whom I fancied. One of them started talking to me about how good the club were in London, so I gave her my mobile number to butter her up. Then the first bloke appeared, took my mobile off me and turned it on - the start-up message was, hilariously, "I must destroy", so he took it away to "examine" it/blow it up. Not that it mattered, as the army girl then found the fluffy animal I took with me to pose in amusing photographs. The conversation dried up pretty quickly at that point. I had to stand there in stony silence, apart from me occasionally whining 'Can I have my phone back, please?', while she scowled at me, obviously thinking I was some sort of nancy boy. The whole thing was like a Chuckle Brothers episode scripted by Franz Kafka, and I haven't had an erection ever since.
Still, I can highly recommend Israeli raves, they're fucking great.
(electricteeth, Fri 3 Mar 2006, 11:34, Reply)