Disclaimer: i in no way own Hetalia
My name is Alfred F. Jones. If you're reading this, I am dead.
JK! I am most likely alive and healthy right now.
Anywhoodle, this is the story of the time I went to visit my Lithuanian friend Toris. He's a real sweet guy, if a little timid. And he has the weirdest friends. Not me, obviously, but he knows this Polish cross-dresser named Feliks and this big ol' Russian guy called Ivan. It's even pronounced wrong! They all say ee-VAHN, when we all know it's EYE-van. Idiots. But I like Toris a lot anyway.
So I'd planned on flying to Lithuania which, as it turns out, is in Eastern Europe, not Africa, like I'd thought before I met Toris. Bet you guys didn't know that! HAHAHA! You're all the best. But as it turned out, I'd bought tickets to Fez, Morocco, thinking once again that Lithuania was in Africa. I had to real quick change my tickets, but I could only get a flight into Barcelona at such short notice, so I would be winging it as I went, out there in the sticks of Europe.
On the plane to Barcelona, Portugal (did you know that Portugal is in Europe, not South America, like I'd thought before?) I sat next to this Spanish guy named Antonio. We really hit it off. He's a great guy, but he knows nothing about history! HAHAHAHA! I asked him if he hated Mexicans because they colonized his country, and he looked all confused and said no.
He also knows nothing about geography. I mean, I'm no whiz, but he thought Barcelona was in Spain! HAHAHA! Poor guy. Expected to be going home, and got Portugal instead! HAHAHAHA!
Anyway, I got off the plane in Barcelona and had to try to find a flight to Lithuania, but nobody spoke American! I thought everyone spoke it! I finally found this guy who supposedly spoke American, but he obviously needed more practice because I could hardly understand what he was saying! So I left in a huff, and somehow found myself on a train bound for Annecy, which is somewhere in France.
On the train, I met this guy Francis, who lives in Annecy. He was all pissed because he was supposed to be meeting his Spanish friend in Barcelona but the guy hadn't showed! Jeez, that's tough. But I can see why his Spanish friend stood him up. He was real handsy. It was awkward.
I asked him if there were a lot of Spanish people in Barcelona, and he said yes real slow, as if I was stupid. HAHAHA! As if.
He asked me why I was going to France, and I told him that I was actually going to Lithuania, which is not in Africa, but had been stuck getting a flight to Barcelona, where nobody spoke American! I'd looked it up, and it had turned out that they spoke Portuguese in Portugal! Who knew?
Francis looked at me kinda funny then, and excused himself. I was pretty relieved, actually. I don't think I could keep rom laughing much longer if he kept his hand on my thigh. I'm ticklish! Not to mention all these Europeans are pretty stupid!
So I got off in Annecy where, once again, nobody spoke American! I mean, what is this? They spoke American a little better here, though. I could actually understand people well enough to get a flight to Lithuania.
I called Toris and told him that I was having some problems getting to Lithuania, but I got a flight and he should wait for me at the airport in Geneva. He sounded really nervous when he told me that he wouldn't be able to come to Switzerland. I was real patient when I told him that I wasn't going to Switzerland, I was going to Lithuania. He just told me that when I got there, I should get a flight to Vilnius, because that was where he was gonna be. I agreed, but Lithuania couldn't be that big! Surely he could find the time to drive to another city so I wouldn't have to pay for another flight.
But whatever. I flew to Geneva, which was a real short plane ride, and then I was in the airport there, trying to get a ticket to Vilnius, like Toris told me to. I spoke to this guy who spoke American, but with an accent. His name tag said his name was Vash. What a weird name.
Anyway, Vash was a real grumpy sort, and he may or may not have threatened to shoot me. I would think that would be pretty illegal, but nobody reacted. I think it's 'cuz Geneva is in a war against America or something, though.
But as it were, there were no tickets to Vilnius in the next fifteen European hours, which I hear is 1.34 times the length of an American hour, so I bought one to Warsaw, Poland. I figured Toris' Polish friend could pick me up and drive me to Lithuania. So I called Toris and told him the news. He told me to hang on a minute and then called me back and told me that Feliks would pick me up in Warsaw. Great! I thanked Vash, even though he didn't deserve it, and went on my way. People behind me on the line were booing me, for some reason. I wonder why.
The plane touched down in Poland a couple hours later, and I collected my things. After some security, I found myself separated only by a thin pane of glass. Behind it I saw families smiling and crying, ready to meet their loved ones. Chauffeurs stood stiffly, smiling blankly, and holding signs with real funny words on them. Some of them I recognized as surnames, but a lot had what looked like letters, but there were weird slashes through the middle of them.
Finally I saw the guy who must have been Toris' friend Feliks. He had green eyes and blond hair and was wearing that wrap thing that Indian women wear. He flipped a few loose strands of hair over his shoulder.
I shouted his name. He looked up. I crossed the barrier and met him.
After greeting each other, we went to his car. The whole ride he went on and on and on about beauty pageants and prom and stuff like that but he had a funny accent because no, not even the Polish speak American!
We finally got to Vilnius, where I saw Toris. I was all enthusiastic and stuff, but he barely seemed happy to see me! After the trip I just had, I figured being enthusiastic was an American thing.
I was super happy to see Toris, but I was still hurt that he hadn't come to get me in Geneva. Toris nervously told me that Geneva wasn't in Lithuania! Geez, Europe is confusing. I think next time I'll just ask Toris to come visit me.