2009 Montreal
2010 Chicago
2011 Switzerland
Oops, looks like we forgot to take a picture together... momma's gonna be mad.Next stop, the moon. Anyways, you get it. So my brother offered to pay for my trip to Switzerland: I was kind of reluctant because I just came back from the Netherlands and another trip just didn't seem ideal. But I said fuck it and threw caution to the wind.
I'll skip all the details of how beautiful Switzerland is and how expensive their food was and how many watch stores per square meter they rock. Fast forward to Bern, 7pm on Saturday (April 9). Vlad and I had just driven through several cute little Swiss towns and Bern was looking like a dump in comparison (no offense to any residents of Bern).
Let me stress the scenario.
Mind you, we didn't notice anything suspicious right away. We drove around lost in Bern for another hour trying to find a restaurant before we ate the upholstery off the seats. After eating I got the urge to listen to some Amy Winehouse. I went to grab my ipod from my backpack and noticed my bag wasn't in the trunk...
"Vlad what did you do with my bag?"
His face didn't make me feel any better. It was a mix between watching someone get hit by a bus and hearing your cat just died.
"What do you mean?"My immediate thoughts were that I was an idiot. I probably left it in Zurich in a parking lot like a fool. Maybe while in Zug when I took it out of the trunk to grab my camera. How can I be so fucking careless! Thaly you're the biggest fucking idiot to walk this...
"We've been robbed!"
Holy shit, my heart sank way deeper than I could've imagined. That was the LAST thing I anticipated. I walked around the car to find this nice surprise waiting for me:
Turns out my brother's bag with his laptop and important documents were stolen as well. As I slowly remembered everything that was in my backpack, panic developed into fear, then regret, then hatred and eventually it took everything in my power not to throw up on the pretty Swiss sidewalks in disgust.
I realize this is largely my fault...
The next few hours are just a mess. As you gradually remember all the contents of your stolen luggage and begin attaching sentimental feelings towards each and every object, the pain gets worse. I'm honestly not a materialistic person - I lost 50 euros in Barcelona once and blamed it on bad luck. BUT WHEN YOU TAKE MY MOTHERFUCKING JOURNAL - THEN IT'S PERSONAL!
I'll get into the journal factor later.
The next step was to call the police. Who were totally sympathetic. It was nice that they actually gave a shit. They helped me call my credit card company, they printed me a new boarding pass and they wrote up a police report while trying to fight back the tears. Aww, so naice.
The rest of the night was painful. It was nearly impossible trying to get in contact with the embassy and I witnessed a man try to fight a garbage can. Switzerland has this law that nothing can be open on Sundays (including - if not especially - government buildings). So we called it quits and made our way to Interlaken.
Sunday was pleasant, I was mostly in good spirits, and I was actually laughing at how fucked this whole situation was (I think I was largely in denial). But you don't want to hear my nice Sunday trip and how our car almost fell off a mountain, you want the horror story, and Monday was the bitch and a half.
First off, no professional photography stores were open - meaning, I had to get my passport pictures taken at a photo booth (something the lady at the embassy loved to stress was stupid of me). Well, FUCK YOU because I had no other option. Secondly, it took much longer than anticipated to get the papers filled out. In fact, by 11:50 AM they had only completed my brother's passport.
Here's where things took a turn for the fucked. It was 11:50AM. My brother's flight was at 12:15 and mine was at 12:20. There was definitely no way I could make my flight unless I seduced the check-in counter and all the passport control stops in between. BUT my brother still had a chance (embassy lady's words, not mine).
I foolishly told her "no, no, we're in this together. He's staying." But Vlad looked at me like I was entirely wrong.
"Grab your stuff!"
He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the embassy and we ran to the car. I was trying my best not to burst into tears. WTF was he doing! He can't leave me here alone!
"It'll all be OK."
In a matter of minutes we were at the airport and Vlad was dashing out of the car at break neck speeds. He threw me 50 Swiss Francs and whatever else was in his pocket (2 pesos and a toonie). I sat there patiently waiting for 12:20 to receive some type of confirmation that he made it. My mom sent my phone a text and told me he was on his way back to Canada. Oh my fucking fuck.
- I'd just like to point out here that my brother is not a heartless monster. To rebook his flight would've cost him 4000$ and unlike me, he has responsibilities -
So let's put this scenario into context so that all my actions afterward will seem valid.
I was alone in Switzerland. Ok. I was alone in Switzerland with 50 Swiss Francs. Alright, that's enough for dinner. I was alone in Switzerland, with 50 Swiss Francs, and no credits on my phone to call anyone. I was ALONE in Switzerland with ONLY 50 Swiss Francs, NO PHONE and with a FUCKED UP RENTAL CAR in my possession and NO IDENTIFICATION!
I'm so fucked.
I'll skip all the details of how beautiful Switzerland is and how expensive their food was and how many watch stores per square meter they rock. Fast forward to Bern, 7pm on Saturday (April 9). Vlad and I had just driven through several cute little Swiss towns and Bern was looking like a dump in comparison (no offense to any residents of Bern).
Let me stress the scenario.
We parked DOWNTOWN.
We parked IN BROAD DAYLIGHT.
We were only gone for AN HOUR.
Got it? Good. We roamed the city briefly just to get the quintessential picture of the alps and at least try to fathom interest in this city. We just weren't feeling it and after desperately trying to find a restaurant we just gave up and decided to check in to our hostel in Interlaken.We parked IN BROAD DAYLIGHT.
We were only gone for AN HOUR.
Mind you, we didn't notice anything suspicious right away. We drove around lost in Bern for another hour trying to find a restaurant before we ate the upholstery off the seats. After eating I got the urge to listen to some Amy Winehouse. I went to grab my ipod from my backpack and noticed my bag wasn't in the trunk...
"Vlad what did you do with my bag?"
His face didn't make me feel any better. It was a mix between watching someone get hit by a bus and hearing your cat just died.
"What do you mean?"My immediate thoughts were that I was an idiot. I probably left it in Zurich in a parking lot like a fool. Maybe while in Zug when I took it out of the trunk to grab my camera. How can I be so fucking careless! Thaly you're the biggest fucking idiot to walk this...
"We've been robbed!"
Holy shit, my heart sank way deeper than I could've imagined. That was the LAST thing I anticipated. I walked around the car to find this nice surprise waiting for me:
Turns out my brother's bag with his laptop and important documents were stolen as well. As I slowly remembered everything that was in my backpack, panic developed into fear, then regret, then hatred and eventually it took everything in my power not to throw up on the pretty Swiss sidewalks in disgust.
I realize this is largely my fault...
- It was my fault for not carrying all my important documents with me at all times.
- It was my fault I assumed that Switzerland was safer than a womb.
- It was my fault that the perverted car rental guy gave us a free upgrade to a Mercedes cause he thought I was cute.
The next few hours are just a mess. As you gradually remember all the contents of your stolen luggage and begin attaching sentimental feelings towards each and every object, the pain gets worse. I'm honestly not a materialistic person - I lost 50 euros in Barcelona once and blamed it on bad luck. BUT WHEN YOU TAKE MY MOTHERFUCKING JOURNAL - THEN IT'S PERSONAL!
I'll get into the journal factor later.
The next step was to call the police. Who were totally sympathetic. It was nice that they actually gave a shit. They helped me call my credit card company, they printed me a new boarding pass and they wrote up a police report while trying to fight back the tears. Aww, so naice.
The rest of the night was painful. It was nearly impossible trying to get in contact with the embassy and I witnessed a man try to fight a garbage can. Switzerland has this law that nothing can be open on Sundays (including - if not especially - government buildings). So we called it quits and made our way to Interlaken.
Sunday was pleasant, I was mostly in good spirits, and I was actually laughing at how fucked this whole situation was (I think I was largely in denial). But you don't want to hear my nice Sunday trip and how our car almost fell off a mountain, you want the horror story, and Monday was the bitch and a half.
First off, no professional photography stores were open - meaning, I had to get my passport pictures taken at a photo booth (something the lady at the embassy loved to stress was stupid of me). Well, FUCK YOU because I had no other option. Secondly, it took much longer than anticipated to get the papers filled out. In fact, by 11:50 AM they had only completed my brother's passport.
Here's where things took a turn for the fucked. It was 11:50AM. My brother's flight was at 12:15 and mine was at 12:20. There was definitely no way I could make my flight unless I seduced the check-in counter and all the passport control stops in between. BUT my brother still had a chance (embassy lady's words, not mine).
I foolishly told her "no, no, we're in this together. He's staying." But Vlad looked at me like I was entirely wrong.
"Grab your stuff!"
He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the embassy and we ran to the car. I was trying my best not to burst into tears. WTF was he doing! He can't leave me here alone!
"It'll all be OK."
In a matter of minutes we were at the airport and Vlad was dashing out of the car at break neck speeds. He threw me 50 Swiss Francs and whatever else was in his pocket (2 pesos and a toonie). I sat there patiently waiting for 12:20 to receive some type of confirmation that he made it. My mom sent my phone a text and told me he was on his way back to Canada. Oh my fucking fuck.
- I'd just like to point out here that my brother is not a heartless monster. To rebook his flight would've cost him 4000$ and unlike me, he has responsibilities -
So let's put this scenario into context so that all my actions afterward will seem valid.
I was alone in Switzerland. Ok. I was alone in Switzerland with 50 Swiss Francs. Alright, that's enough for dinner. I was alone in Switzerland, with 50 Swiss Francs, and no credits on my phone to call anyone. I was ALONE in Switzerland with ONLY 50 Swiss Francs, NO PHONE and with a FUCKED UP RENTAL CAR in my possession and NO IDENTIFICATION!
I'm so fucked.I'll have you know, that I haven't really cried since 2009. It takes a lot to make me upset and this situation definitely pushed me over edge. The next several hours were a paradoxical nightmare.
I didn't have money to pay for my passport - I didn't have a passport to get my money from Western Union - and I didn't have a passport OR money to get me a new flight out of Switzerland.
What the fuck was I going to do when all these things relied on each other. This is where I learned the power of a little girl crying. I cried hysterically in the embassy which made them let me use their phones to call Canada. And I most definitely cried in Western Union, which made the girl take pity on me and give me my money despite my lack of ID.
The details of this day are confusing. Let's just say nothing went right and I missed another flight to Stockholm. I was also running on 5 hours of sleep and no food for 18 hours. Eventually, my tears paid off. I got a flight booked by my momma, the embassy could then finally surrender me my passport, and I could now return the car to Hertz. (I'd just like to add that I HATE driving in Geneva)
Hertz was not pleased. I am under 25, I had no driver's license, I was not the person who signed off on the car, it was 6 hours late and to top it all off, the back window was smashed. Time to bust out the little girl tears. Not only did they wave all charges (except for the window) but they also tried to find me a hostel to sleep in for the night. Such nice guys.
For some reason, Monday in Geneva is the hottest day of the week to visit the city... so everything was fully booked and my only option was a 300$ deluxe sweet and some hotel downtown. No thanks...
I spent the night sleeping in the airport wherever I could. On the floor beside the train station, on a bench behind a ticket booth, on the steps of a jewelery store and then finally, upright on a bench in arrivals.
I'm home now and pretty much everything has been fixed. I got a temporary passport, I canceled my credit card, I got new locks to get into my room and I already forgot about that pair of jeans that looked awful on me. My biggest loss was definitely my journal, which not only contained memories, but pictures I took from disposable cameras, script ideas, drawings, offerings from gypsies, tickets to sex shows and musings on my love and hatred for life (depending on the day of the week). My only consolation is that the guy who stole it probably can't read English, so at least he can't laugh at me.
WELL THAT WAS MY WEEKEND, I hope yours was swell. Surprisingly I'm not completely beaten down from this experience. Despite the shittyness of Monday and the pain of Saturday night, this was probably the best sibling weekend yet. It made me respect my brother so much more and Switzerland is just fucking beautiful in general. I'm already super pumped for my month long trip in June, and I learned the valuable lesson that I should KEEP MY SHIT ON ME AT ALL TIMES!
I don't know if I'll ever go back to Switzerland, but if I ever do, I'm bringing a gun.
I didn't have money to pay for my passport - I didn't have a passport to get my money from Western Union - and I didn't have a passport OR money to get me a new flight out of Switzerland.
What the fuck was I going to do when all these things relied on each other. This is where I learned the power of a little girl crying. I cried hysterically in the embassy which made them let me use their phones to call Canada. And I most definitely cried in Western Union, which made the girl take pity on me and give me my money despite my lack of ID.
The details of this day are confusing. Let's just say nothing went right and I missed another flight to Stockholm. I was also running on 5 hours of sleep and no food for 18 hours. Eventually, my tears paid off. I got a flight booked by my momma, the embassy could then finally surrender me my passport, and I could now return the car to Hertz. (I'd just like to add that I HATE driving in Geneva)
Hertz was not pleased. I am under 25, I had no driver's license, I was not the person who signed off on the car, it was 6 hours late and to top it all off, the back window was smashed. Time to bust out the little girl tears. Not only did they wave all charges (except for the window) but they also tried to find me a hostel to sleep in for the night. Such nice guys.
For some reason, Monday in Geneva is the hottest day of the week to visit the city... so everything was fully booked and my only option was a 300$ deluxe sweet and some hotel downtown. No thanks...
I spent the night sleeping in the airport wherever I could. On the floor beside the train station, on a bench behind a ticket booth, on the steps of a jewelery store and then finally, upright on a bench in arrivals.
I'm home now and pretty much everything has been fixed. I got a temporary passport, I canceled my credit card, I got new locks to get into my room and I already forgot about that pair of jeans that looked awful on me. My biggest loss was definitely my journal, which not only contained memories, but pictures I took from disposable cameras, script ideas, drawings, offerings from gypsies, tickets to sex shows and musings on my love and hatred for life (depending on the day of the week). My only consolation is that the guy who stole it probably can't read English, so at least he can't laugh at me.
WELL THAT WAS MY WEEKEND, I hope yours was swell. Surprisingly I'm not completely beaten down from this experience. Despite the shittyness of Monday and the pain of Saturday night, this was probably the best sibling weekend yet. It made me respect my brother so much more and Switzerland is just fucking beautiful in general. I'm already super pumped for my month long trip in June, and I learned the valuable lesson that I should KEEP MY SHIT ON ME AT ALL TIMES!
I don't know if I'll ever go back to Switzerland, but if I ever do, I'm bringing a gun.
