…and I never remember them so I wanted to hurry up and write it down before I forgot it. This should give you some insight into exactly what a pathetic loser I really am.
So anyway, I’m apparently pursuing my dream to go abroad on a Football tour, and I’m all excited because I am going to see a really good game — I think it was Everton vs. Liverpool or similar. I’ve apparently arranged everything ahead of time, because I’ve prepaid for all my tickets and pre-arranged my transport throughout the country. And apparently the mode of transportation is some kind of combination of open-air train (like the top half of a double-decker bus) and hovercraft because we’re speeding along highways and seaside roads and then suddenly the train/hovercraft leaps over the rail to the beach, in a manner not unlike a combination of Burnout Paradise and the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney. We’re flying down the beach and people are scattering to either side and we’re splashing and so on. Of course I’m in a state of shock because we’re flying over railings and going like 150 mph on a beach, while the people around me are all listening to their i-pods or reading The Sun and barely noticing.
Anyway for some reason the football ground is out in the country, not in the city, so the conveyance leaves us off about a ten minute walk away. And I’m walking with all the other people who are going to the ground to see the game, and I realize that next to me going to the game is Gordon Ramsay. And I’m torn because on the one hand he’s kind of famous and might be interesting to talk to and I know he used to be a football player himself, and on the other hand he might be a huge obnoxious asshole. But in my own self-deprecating and charming way we exchange a few minor pleasantries about the game and so on.
Anyway, later on I arrive at the ground and pull out my tickets, and I almost have a heart attack because they’re for a La Liga double-header between Valladolid and Racing Santander, with another game between Espanyol and someone…and I’m going into a panic because not only do I not have the tickets to the game I’m at, and want to see, but I know almost nothing about Valladolid or Racing Santander, don’t really give a s**t about La Liga and the game is in Spain and it had been played yesterday.
So I run back to the ticket purchase area, which I passed about five minutes before, and of course I am in a panic because it’s something I haven’t pre-arranged, and there’s no guarantee that they’ll even have a ticket, and I’m going the opposite way from everyone, and I get to the ticket window and of course Gordon Ramsay is there. And he starts yelling at me and getting in my face because of my ticket screw-up and he’s calling me a stupid git as if I’m on Hell’s Kitchen and I’ve burnt the risotto and he’s bragging about how he gets all the tickets he wants because he used to play football and he’s a big shot.
And then I woke up.