Katie Compa: Comedian

Eurotrip Stories

I had a great time during my month in Europe. I went to five countries and used twelve public transportation systems. I did a bunch of standup. I’ve had to unearth my old jeans to be decent in public, thanks to (among others) butter, pancakes, more butter, croissants, bread, cheese, pasta, and more cheese. Also, beer. Holla! I lost my internal fullness meter somewhere in Amsterdam under some pancakes. If you see it, please destroy it because I never want to see it again.

I’m just going to post random stories at random times, out of order, because if I try to go chronologically my brain will implode and no one will ever hear anything about this trip.

Luckily, the first and most dramatic thing happened the first day, a few hours after I landed in Manchester, UK: my iPhone was stolen. From my hand. I was using it. The guy rode up on a bike, snatched the phone, and took off. I thought it was a prank for a full five seconds, all, “do I know this guy? What a douche!” before I realized what was happening.

Pro tip: don’t try to chase a bike if you aren’t also on a bike. I’d document the color changes of the knee bruise I sustained from chasing the bike, but I don’t have any, because the guy TOOK MY IPHONE.

(I’ll skip the details on how stupid I am without an iPhone— bike-chasing stroke of genius aside— except to say that it took my ego down a few notches.)

So, I bought a little shitbox phone from O2 in England. It’s like going back in time! It doesn’t even have a camera! The battery lasts a solid week! (That last one is actually pretty sweet.)

(Also, they make it look so easy in the store, but I can’t take the back off without putting the phone on the ground and using my shoe. A little awkward.)

Silver lining: I got to go to the village police station to report the theft. It looks like this:

COULD IT BE CUTER? It looks exactly like Hot Fuzz on the inside, too. There was a crocheted bobby sitting on a windowsill (odd that someone had time to knit that what with all the CRIME). It was Good Friday, so there was literally one cop on duty. One. They had to page him to let me in. Then I ran into him twice more around town that day. We have plans to go to brunch next time I’m in Manchester, which is JUST KIDDING! I’m NEVER going back to Manchester. SUCK IT, MANCHESTER!

Anyway, I got my old iPhone sent to me, so I wasn’t totally without GPS. (See above, re: stupid.) I’ve discovered that talking about my stolen iPhone just doesn’t elicit sympathy. From me. To my own ear I sound like Gwyneth Paltrow complaining about being fat (true story). I stop just short of telling myself to shut the f@ck up.

Next time: PEMBERLEY! Or another story if I feel like it.