Running Away

Our only idea in the world after the horror that was Marsaille was getting the hell off the continent. Of course that was never going to be as simple as you would have hoped it would be, we had to get rid of the bus, pack or bin all our worldly possessions and somehow post the Kloss Push Cycle back to Australie.

We hired the bus in Frankfurt, so in theory were supposed to drop it back there, but no one, and I mean not a single one of us, were interested in going any where near the Rhineland so we decided that they would just have to let us leave our bus in Paris (David Duchovny is an executive producer in Californication- now we know how he got to bed the Madeline Zima character...) so Sunday early we woke up for Fuc to do the big drive to Marseille airport for Ness, BT and his flight to Cairo. Nothing is ever simple with Fuc unfortunately so we all had to get out bed to aid in the navigation, and of course a bit of hide thier baggage high jinks. Anyways we eventually got them to the airport an hour after we planned and we assume they got off to Eygpt all right.

This left the Kapitan, Wristy and I with three days to get to Paris for the Kloss to fly out and the bus to be dropped off. We decided to head to Lyon, site of our most rock n roll weekend on the trip (free drinks in Premier Class on the Eurostar- rock n roll) anyways, Lyon city of dreams, we set off for one last night out in our favorite town. Unfortunatly the Ayers Rock was not open when we blew into town so our plans for the evening were dashed.

Thankfully the Fijians decided to play one of the more exciting matches of the world cup that afternoon so our day wasn't a total wash, eventually the Aussie Pub of dreams opened and we partied for a few hours, but our hearts weren't really in it, the cumulative effect of 100 days straight on the turps and the come down of our crazy Friday night were stopping us from really getting going.

The next day we left early for Paris intent on getting out of town as fast as possible, nothing wrong with that things were going well. We were chipper, we were going home, we were so high on life we decided to have an AFD - after 100 days it seemed like the thing to do (FUCK ME - they just brought around a kick arse lunch menu- for an extra 100 euro Class 1 is definatly worth the money- were talking, Caribbean Pork Curry or Sea Bream with a side dish of salmon + veges and a blueberry tart).

It was when we got to Paris that things began to go wrong, over the course of the trip everyone has taken turns using their passports to check us into campsites, everyone but the Kloss that is, so most of us had a good idea where our passports where, most of us but the Kloss that is. He had lost it. That's right LOST HIS PASSPORT, the man is rediculous enough to have lost the most valuable identification document he had. The Fear and Loathing descended, to add to the chaos we had to deal with cleaning the bus and binning about 15 bags worth of rubbish off the bus, and we realized that McRent didn't have a return office in Paris- we managed to stick to our AFD pledge, but it wasn't the relaxing eve we had imagined.

So the next morning we got up bright and early and went to the embassy in order for Kloss to get out fo the country - right? Wrong, we fucked about for hours and hours and then headed into town, I wasn't impressed. We eventually got into town and went to the Embassy, it turned out that getting a replacement passport was fucking simple so our F&L dissipated for the moment. Our next challange was getting rid of the push bike - the plan was to simply rock up to Fedex and get a box - the survey says Unruckiii.

Things were getting bleaker, Kloss was going to be able to fly out of the country in 24 hours, but it looked to me that I was going to be driving the bus to Frankfurt and somehow wheeling Kloss' bike onto the plane- I got a descent wack of the Loathing at this point. Thankfully once we got back to the bus we manged to find a big box at Carrefours and the Germans came through allowing us to drop the bus in Paris. Life was good again, so we decided to have an epic night on the booze to say good bye to our favorite moterhome- The Messy Dayz Express. Good times, good times.

So this morning we had a series of challenges, drop the bus to campsite on the other side of town, pick up the Kloss's new passport, go to Fed Ex, drop TGO to Gare De Nord, and get on flights home. Plenty of to do items, somehow we pulled it off; we cried when we said goodbye to Messy and everything else went perfectly. The lads dropped me at the Train station at around ten to twelve and by 19 past we were speeding off towards Londres, we've just entered a tunnel- Bills Continental European Adventure is OVER!!!