One more! I had a layover in Zurich… I alerted as many people as I possibly could of this because, well, it was torture. I know. “Shut up. You have no idea how stupid you sound when you complain about being stuck in Zurich, meanwhile it’s been snowing snowstorm after snowstorm back home and we all hate you. Stop.” I know. But look:

I hadn’t slept. I had arrived at 5:30 in the morning. My flight back home was going to be at 5 that evening which is 11 hours of doing nothing time in a foreign country where everyone is creepy looking. I had no where to go, besides places where I would spend money, it rained, it snowed, it hailed, all not for very long–that is, just long enough to make my hair look crazy, my eyeliner rub all over my face, my boots and socks wet, and my magazines crinkly. Plus it was dark there until like 9 AM!? I wouldn’t know what the morning daylight situation in Greece is since I’ve never woken up there before 11… Ah vacation.

At one point I decided that I would look for the river. Because I found out there was a river and I thought it would be nice for chick-pictures. It was, as you’ll note the feigned romanticism and girlization of an otherwise boring, cold and unpleasant city.

But first I’m going to tell you about the man that shot a pigeon. I found the river. Took some quasi-scenic pictures, found a couple of docks that were swarming with pigeons, swans and ducks. All playing nice with one another. Then a man comes in with this huge musket. Well I don’t know if it was a musket since I don’t really know what a musket is… exactly. I could Google it, but even then I wouldn’t know if it actually was or not. Regardless, it was long and intimidating but when he pointed and SHOT at a pigeon, it didn’t make a sound. Or at least I didn’t hear anything, so it must have had a silencer. Although from time to time I convince myself that I’m hard of hearing and this is actually becoming one of those moments where I’m wondering why I didn’t hear anything at all…

Anyway so I risked death and went over to him and asked him IF he shot the pigeon and, when I realized he had because he scooped the dead pigeon into his hand and into a black plastic bag, why he would shoot a pigeon. He said there were too many and that last year he has shot 5,000. So there you have it.

I am kicking myself for not taking a picture of him secretly. He looked like that photo-place repair guy from Amelie.

A very nice woman sold me fantastic macaroons. I made friends with a Harvard student who had a layover in Zurich as well, but she only entertained me for a few hours because her layover time wasn’t as long as mine.

Zurich: