Day one in my journals of the girl who came all the way from Finland to spend New Year's Eve with me
Written by: Alex Sandell

In early fall of '97, a girl I had never heard from before wrote to me , asking if I would spend New Year's Eve with her. She said The Juicy Cerebellum was her favorite site, and it would be the highpoint of her dreary life. I didn't really have anything else planned, so I wrote back telling her, "sure, as long as you don't mind sitting around with a six-pack of non-alcoholic beer, watching Conan O' Brien." She obviously didn't mind, and had plane tickets the next day.

Four months later, on December 27th, 1997, she arrived in America. We met, and she spent 8 days with me. This is what happened.

December 27th, 1997. Day number one.
6:34 PM: I arrive at the airport 4 minutes after her plane is 'sposed to arrive. Running frantically through the gigantic airport, hoping to bump into her at random (hey, weirder things have happened. Like girls flying all the way from Finland to meet bozos like me.), hug, and get the fuck out of this snazzy, security-laden warehouse.

6:52 PM: I realize this method just isn't going to work, and ask a guy that looks like a pilot, but turns out to be an overnight janitor, if he knows where people arriving from Finland would be at. He doesn't know what a "Finland" is, and tells me to use the courtesy phone. I ask where it is. He kind of laughs, and I realize that I'm leaning against it.

6:54 PM: I pick up the courtesy phone, and wait for someone to answer. They do. Amazing. "Hi, uh, do you know when the plane from Finland comes in?" A pause. "Could I get the flight number, sir?" This is when I realize I never got the flight number, or anything else from the girl flying all the way from Finland to spend New Year's Eve with me. "Well, I don't have the flight number, but I do know it's 'sposed to have arrived at 6:30." "I could page her for you, sir." The increasingly irritated courtesy phone person says. "Okay." "Could I get her first name?" "Tanja," I tell her (the name was changed to protect her secret identity). "Her last name?" This is when I realize I don't even know the girl who came all the way from Finland to spend New Year's Eve with me's last name. "Um, could you just say 'Tanja from Finland?" I ask. The lady half-laughs, half-hisses, and says "no problem," although it obviously is.

7:03 PM: I hear the lady paging Tanja from Finland. It sounds something like this: "fjkg adj jg fjap ap." So much for technology.

7:07 PM: I finally find a gate that has a bunch of foreign looking people coming out of it. I figure this must be where she'll be at.

7:08 PM: A super hot stewardess comes walking out in a tight, blue uniform. I hope this is her. Even though I know it isn't, I devise a plan, just to get a closer look at this blue-clad beauty. "Hi, are you Tanja from Finland?" She says she's from Holland, and I'm immediately convinced this is where I want to live. Holland for me, baby. Yep. Gotta love that Holland. Woo-hoo!

7:15 PM: I find out that this is indeed the gate where the plane from Finland arrives at. Only problem, it's got an hour delay. I look at the watch and realize that 45 minutes of the hour is already up, and don't raise any blood pressure over it.

7:17 PM: I find out that each passenger goes through an inspection that can take up to half an hour. I decide to raise that blood pressure, after-all.

7:47 PM: I'm bored.

8:03 PM: After all this time people-watching, I begin observing the fact that lots of women between the ages of 14-30 wear big, giant KISS boots. Like clodhopper sort of things. When did this style begin???

8:23 PM: A load of people FINALLY enter the gate, half of them clad in clods. One of them looks slightly confused and out of place. This just MUST be mine! I walk up and ask, "are you Tanja," she says "Alex!!!" And lets up a HUGE, PHLEGMY cough. I think a little snot hits me in the face. Yikes.

8:27 PM: She keeps coughing. Great . . . exotic diseases from Scandinavian countries. What could be better?

8:33 PM: We get in the car. It costs like five-million dollars for parking. We drive away.

8:35 PM: Like an annoying tour guide, I point out all the neat Minnesota attractions, like "McDonald's," and stuff. She seems bored.

9:00 PM: We arrive back at my apartment. She coughs. We watch TV. She falls asleep. I think about masturbating, but decide to take a dump, instead.

9:03 PM: Day one is over.

Go to day number two

1998 Alex Sandell [all rights reserved]. If you copy this, I'm gonna sick a sick foreigner in KISS boots on ya'.

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