Ashwon, Rosen, and myself decided to tackle the expert trail up Mount Serrat, yesterday. Not quite sure why, but the expert trail seemed like the best idea for 3 spry twenty-somethings. 4 heart attacks later, we arrived at the top. I would say the view of the Pyrenees was breathtaking, but there was none left for the taking. Ernest Borgnine greeted us at the top with lox and cream cheese on cinnamon toast.

Sardinia, Night 1:
Matthew, Jennifer, and I flew into Alghero, Sardinia on Wednesday, March 1st. We took the 70 cent bus to the center of the city. A portly Italian, Mr. Pierro, welcomed us trying to sell us an apartment. All we wanted was pizza. He showed us to the nearest Pizzeria down the road. He was magically waiting for us when we arrived, like in a cheesy horror flick. Also cheesy were the 4 pizzas we ate in minutes flat. Even cheesier was the play on words I just made. Cheesier yet to call myself out for a bad joke.

We arrived at our hotel eager sleep and explore the lifeless town that was Alghero during the week during the off-season during an aroraborealis. The room was perfect minus the baby crib meant for my sleeping accommodations. Wish there was an MTV show that would have been interested in a tour of my sleeping accommodations...

I dove head first into the crib, breaking it in half. I stormed down to the reception desk, the 2 halves of the crib in hand. I slamming the pieces on the desk, I demanded a new room with suitable sleeping arrangements. The woman behind the desk apologized profusely and assured me she would provide us with a new room immediately. Nonetheless, I repeatedly slammed my fists on the desk, screaming gibberish and drooling uncontrollably. I started sobbing, still pounding on the desk, gasping for air in between bits of gibberish and profanity in Spanish, German, Italian, and Swahili. Maybe I was tired, or hungry, or just confused. How dare they give ME a crib! How F'ing dare they! They'll pay dearly for this. Sweet face pierce, anyone with an actual mole there would have had it removed years ago! I hope that facering is malignant. Oh, you're going to comp. me? I don't even want to hear it if it doesn't start with "100 ft. yacht." What on god's green earth is a calacione? Oh, it means breakfast does it? You can have this for breakfast, its a devastating blow to the kidney! That makes it a little better, but no, I'm still pissed. They're gonna have what there? Salami and cheese? Fresh pastries? No, not good enough, remember when you put a crib in my room? Yeah, you should, it happened just minutes ago, and no breakfast is going to - There'll be juice too? Two different kinds? And jelly, and eggs, and its free, like, no cost free? Ok, I guess that makes it a little better. Alright, I'm fine with it. Then why am I still crying? Stop crying! I mean, guess I'm over it, but I am not sorry and I will not leave a tip. How dare they give ME a crib! They've got some gall, these Italians.

Stuck in the Alghero airport currently. Murderessness is bound to ensue. Stay tuned for a cornicopia of wacky anicdotes from the island of Sardinia. Also, send care packages.