Remember that time back in June, when Friend-with-a-Truck and I decided to go to Amsterdam for the weekend? (If you don't know what I'm talking about, you might want to scroll back in blog-ville. It was awesome.) I was just thinking that I apparently have a propensity to take last-minute awesome trips. I say that as I stare at the gloomy fall sky, listen to the rain on my roof, worry about money-troubles, and imagine I am in Scotland.
The first time I went to Scotland was when I was 19, and I'd never even had a drink before, other than surprise bourbon when I took a sip of my mom's "Diet Coke." It was my second year of college, and flights to Louisville for spring break were around $500. (This was 1998 dollars too, so that's, like, $2000.) Lyzz and I had decided to just stay in New York for the week. But then we saw flights to London listed in the Village Voice for only $150. Yes, it was cheaper to fly to London than to Louisville. The next thing we knew, we were at JFK; then we were flying over Greenland with the entire West Point Rugby team and watching them drink the plane dry; then we were in London.
After a day and a half in London, Lyzz's dad (who was coincidentally there on business) got sick of us, and bought us each a ticket to Edinburgh. We hopped the train and intended on spending one or two days at the most in Scotland. But our hostel was hopping, and it was St. Patrick's Week, -- I definitely had some Guinness that week, although my love of fine Scotch wasn't discovered until my third trip to Scotland -- and we had to race back to London at the end of the week barely in time to catch our flight back to New York.
I've considered planning another spontaneous and awesome trip, but that sort of defeats the purpose. Although, reading Pillars of the Earth definitely has me searching daily for cheap tickets to the UK.
If the week continues to look like Scotland outside, you may get an entire blog on Scotch Whisky. I think I'm going to go add some single malts to my public Amazon Wish List.
The first time I went to Scotland was when I was 19, and I'd never even had a drink before, other than surprise bourbon when I took a sip of my mom's "Diet Coke." It was my second year of college, and flights to Louisville for spring break were around $500. (This was 1998 dollars too, so that's, like, $2000.) Lyzz and I had decided to just stay in New York for the week. But then we saw flights to London listed in the Village Voice for only $150. Yes, it was cheaper to fly to London than to Louisville. The next thing we knew, we were at JFK; then we were flying over Greenland with the entire West Point Rugby team and watching them drink the plane dry; then we were in London.
After a day and a half in London, Lyzz's dad (who was coincidentally there on business) got sick of us, and bought us each a ticket to Edinburgh. We hopped the train and intended on spending one or two days at the most in Scotland. But our hostel was hopping, and it was St. Patrick's Week, -- I definitely had some Guinness that week, although my love of fine Scotch wasn't discovered until my third trip to Scotland -- and we had to race back to London at the end of the week barely in time to catch our flight back to New York.
I've considered planning another spontaneous and awesome trip, but that sort of defeats the purpose. Although, reading Pillars of the Earth definitely has me searching daily for cheap tickets to the UK.
If the week continues to look like Scotland outside, you may get an entire blog on Scotch Whisky. I think I'm going to go add some single malts to my public Amazon Wish List.
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