Back in the day school trips where always a gathering I took seriously to discover new heighs of drunkardism
First school trip with drinks was in 8th grade. Got drunk handsomely, got offered drugs, found a small shop run by some arabian guy who sold us brandy and porn magazines. Cool trip. A friend of mine jizzed on all my new mags.
The next one was my first visit to hamburg`s st pauli and it`s redlight district. 10th grade and I already could stomach some more booze.
Then I took a big leap in drinking proveness to 11th grade and had some fun on a small learning discourse trip...
There are a lot of funny memories I might share with you sometime about these trips but the one I will write about now is what would become my grand leaving off one school as I have been blacklisted long before this trip by my teachers not knowing anything about it...
Our destination was Sorento, Italy, north of Naples. The talk was about a 24 hour bus ride.
I set myself up with two bottles of beam and coke, getting stronger by the bottle. First one 3rd part beam then half and then two thirds. My plan worked accordingly.
On pitstops I smoked some shit and interrupted my whysky journey with cold beers. A friend of mine traveled in another bus and did the same thing with screwdrivers, only he messed up the order of bottles and ended up puking in the disfunctional bus-toilett preaching bad smell for everyone...
For watching pleasures I handed the busdriver a VHS with badtaste and braindead on it. Quickly with silver and black markers „dirty dancing“ written on it the tape immediately flew my direction thrown by a teacher after the first 10 seconds of bad taste haha!
Well it got late and peolpe tried to sleep. Not me of course! Coke and lots of beam had me talking, so much that our drug addict classmate got so pissed that he spit at me. We had both to report to the front to our teachers cause people were complaining about us at four a.m. After we talked drunkenly and druggenly to them they let us go. (back to our seats that is)
In the morning we arrived at our bungalow park and the party continued into next night. A 5 litre red wine jug was my faithful companion from then on every night. The beer was not sold in cases but rather in boxes. Only the vodka was the same. Best part on the following day was the group pic in a pompeian amphi-theatre: 90 pupils and some 5-10 teachers als standing up, row by row smiling and only oettinger lying in the far right corner showing a grimace of „who the fuck is waking me? That fucker will die! Now let me throw up and you go fuck off!“
Lots more happened but that should be it for now. (Naples was funny as fuck, that might be a story on it`s own!)
Changed schools a year later and went haywire there. Lots of drunk stories ya know...
School trips
Moderators: Artful Drunktective, mistah willies, NYDingbat, Judge, oettinger, Oggar, Badfellow, Mr Boozificator
School trips
Drink!
-
booznik
- King Cockeyed
- Posts: 1545
- Joined: Sat May 03, 2014 2:29 pm
- Location: People's Republic of SoCal
Re: School trips
Fear and Loathing in High School!oettinger wrote:Back in the day school trips where always a gathering I took seriously to discover new heighs of drunkardism
"Booznik. Smooth, classy and manatee-like." --Bur
"Oh, you've been reading your Sir Kenelm Digby, haven't you? Stick to the mead recipes, especially that of the Mayor of Moscovy. That shizz is SACK!!!" --Badfellow
"Now stop and DRINK! bastards." --mistah willies
"A stand alone place for booze is as essential for a home, as is a bed to sleep on." --Miklo
"Oh, you've been reading your Sir Kenelm Digby, haven't you? Stick to the mead recipes, especially that of the Mayor of Moscovy. That shizz is SACK!!!" --Badfellow
"Now stop and DRINK! bastards." --mistah willies
"A stand alone place for booze is as essential for a home, as is a bed to sleep on." --Miklo
-
booznik
- King Cockeyed
- Posts: 1545
- Joined: Sat May 03, 2014 2:29 pm
- Location: People's Republic of SoCal
Re: School trips
I was a good kid and never drank or drugged in school, but oettinger's tale does bring back memories of my ultimate school trip, the rite of passage for California students: the East Coast trip.
I don't think any of us had actually been there before. We did numerous historical sites in DC/Philly/Boston (Ford's theater was a highlight, where Lincoln was shot), but what I remember the most was NYC, in 1992.
The twin towers were still there, of course.
Actual, real live dudes walking down the street with boomboxes on their shoulders. Like you might see in the movies today.
A guy on the street trying to sell us "gold" chains.
Groups of people jaywalking in front of an NYPD patrol car, with no response. They just waited patiently for everyone to cross. In California, this is a high crime and misdemeanor (George Carlin wrote about this). In college, I got a ticket for it myself.
Trying to call home from a payphone with calling card, and the operator not accepting it because my parents had neglected to provide me the PIN code. Mom was furious that I didn't call.
A classmate propositioning me in the hotel, saying come up to her room for some action. I said no, because I figured she was probably trying to get an embarrassing photo out of it. The rooms were shared, not private. And she was well known as the gossip queen.
We're at the top of the Empire State building, and back then there's nothing there to prevent people from throwing shit off it. Just a stern warning from the chaperones, "Do not throw things". The class punk tried it of course, but was caught and stopped.
The class punk getting himself handcuffed to a bathroom sink by the house detective in the Statue of Liberty gift shop, for shoplifting.
In the Old Post Office, I bought a keychain device from a novelty vendor that spoke swear words. Because that is incredibly funny when you're a teenage boy.
I accidentally activated this while a group of nuns were giving us a tour of the Washington National Cathedral. The cry "Fuck you asshole!" reverberated within those sacred walls. The nuns were startled, but nobody knew it was me except my best friend. We stifled our laughter as best we could, and the tour went on.
In our hotel in NYC, the class punk and his brother-in-mayhem watched the pay-porn on TV, because the chaperones hadn't thought to have it blocked. That got added to the bill, and the chaperones were furious.
In the same hotel, the class punk threw ice down on passersby, and the police were called.
Being at the Tomb of the Unknowns, and having the misfortune to take the last picture on the roll of film during the ceremony. The automatic-rewind went on, loudly, and all eyes in the audience were on me. I didn't want to open the lid to stop it and expose my film, so I got as far as I could from the marching guards, and let it finish.
Seeing Arlington National Cemetery. Even as a young, immature teen, it made an impression on me. Today, that memory means so much more.
I don't think any of us had actually been there before. We did numerous historical sites in DC/Philly/Boston (Ford's theater was a highlight, where Lincoln was shot), but what I remember the most was NYC, in 1992.
The twin towers were still there, of course.
Actual, real live dudes walking down the street with boomboxes on their shoulders. Like you might see in the movies today.
A guy on the street trying to sell us "gold" chains.
Groups of people jaywalking in front of an NYPD patrol car, with no response. They just waited patiently for everyone to cross. In California, this is a high crime and misdemeanor (George Carlin wrote about this). In college, I got a ticket for it myself.
Trying to call home from a payphone with calling card, and the operator not accepting it because my parents had neglected to provide me the PIN code. Mom was furious that I didn't call.
A classmate propositioning me in the hotel, saying come up to her room for some action. I said no, because I figured she was probably trying to get an embarrassing photo out of it. The rooms were shared, not private. And she was well known as the gossip queen.
We're at the top of the Empire State building, and back then there's nothing there to prevent people from throwing shit off it. Just a stern warning from the chaperones, "Do not throw things". The class punk tried it of course, but was caught and stopped.
The class punk getting himself handcuffed to a bathroom sink by the house detective in the Statue of Liberty gift shop, for shoplifting.
In the Old Post Office, I bought a keychain device from a novelty vendor that spoke swear words. Because that is incredibly funny when you're a teenage boy.
I accidentally activated this while a group of nuns were giving us a tour of the Washington National Cathedral. The cry "Fuck you asshole!" reverberated within those sacred walls. The nuns were startled, but nobody knew it was me except my best friend. We stifled our laughter as best we could, and the tour went on.
In our hotel in NYC, the class punk and his brother-in-mayhem watched the pay-porn on TV, because the chaperones hadn't thought to have it blocked. That got added to the bill, and the chaperones were furious.
In the same hotel, the class punk threw ice down on passersby, and the police were called.
Being at the Tomb of the Unknowns, and having the misfortune to take the last picture on the roll of film during the ceremony. The automatic-rewind went on, loudly, and all eyes in the audience were on me. I didn't want to open the lid to stop it and expose my film, so I got as far as I could from the marching guards, and let it finish.
Seeing Arlington National Cemetery. Even as a young, immature teen, it made an impression on me. Today, that memory means so much more.
"Booznik. Smooth, classy and manatee-like." --Bur
"Oh, you've been reading your Sir Kenelm Digby, haven't you? Stick to the mead recipes, especially that of the Mayor of Moscovy. That shizz is SACK!!!" --Badfellow
"Now stop and DRINK! bastards." --mistah willies
"A stand alone place for booze is as essential for a home, as is a bed to sleep on." --Miklo
"Oh, you've been reading your Sir Kenelm Digby, haven't you? Stick to the mead recipes, especially that of the Mayor of Moscovy. That shizz is SACK!!!" --Badfellow
"Now stop and DRINK! bastards." --mistah willies
"A stand alone place for booze is as essential for a home, as is a bed to sleep on." --Miklo
Re: School trips
Reminds me of the story when I got banned from cologne catherdral. Remind me to tell you about it someday, funny it was. Edit: Was drunk as a priest of course!
No oettinger!
No oettinger!
Drink!
-
mistah willies
- Drinking Like W.C.
- Posts: 6747
- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 9:48 pm
- Location: A ship upon the vast ocean of the Mighty MDM
- Contact:
Re: School trips
Gawdamn them some fine tales you Drunkard bastidges,
OK, to contribute:
High school seniors trip to Anaheim from Fuckno, (the asshole of lovely Califlower) and Joey and I stocked up. I drank cheap vodika, warm, because it tasted good to me, back then. He liked his Boone's Farm. But he also had lysergic tabs.
We shared an apartment and did whatever the fuck we wanted, and so we took acid at Disneyland.
I tell you, misth man, I think that ole Walt was either:
expert on acid experience
or,
he was born that way, and that was how his brain operated, permanent, every day, all day. Can you imagine that? Dayam.
Anyway, that was when we discovered that there is another level to life.
The effects of DRINK become erased when the acid kicks in, after a half hour.
But remember to save some booze for the come down, the trip home. Hide it well.
Our trip home was not so good. We didn't hide the cheap wine and vodika so well, or else, the bus driver went through all our shit, the whole bus.
We had no weed for help, and that bus driver drove fast and furious.
It was a tossy ride back to Fuckno.
OK, to contribute:
High school seniors trip to Anaheim from Fuckno, (the asshole of lovely Califlower) and Joey and I stocked up. I drank cheap vodika, warm, because it tasted good to me, back then. He liked his Boone's Farm. But he also had lysergic tabs.
We shared an apartment and did whatever the fuck we wanted, and so we took acid at Disneyland.
I tell you, misth man, I think that ole Walt was either:
expert on acid experience
or,
he was born that way, and that was how his brain operated, permanent, every day, all day. Can you imagine that? Dayam.
Anyway, that was when we discovered that there is another level to life.
The effects of DRINK become erased when the acid kicks in, after a half hour.
But remember to save some booze for the come down, the trip home. Hide it well.
Our trip home was not so good. We didn't hide the cheap wine and vodika so well, or else, the bus driver went through all our shit, the whole bus.
We had no weed for help, and that bus driver drove fast and furious.
It was a tossy ride back to Fuckno.