Howdy, folks! I am back in lovely [and very cold] Roma, and very happy to be home. My first vacation in Europe was a huge success and I have much to tell you about - a week's worth of stuff, actually, which will probably take me about 7 years to write, so excuse my slowness and bear with me as I do this in parts and try to write about only the most interesting stuff.
Oh, and I have about 300 photos to show you, but Flickr is still being a prick so I just e-mailed Yahoo and hopefully all of those issues will be resolved soon so you can see all the photographic evidence of my awesomeness.
Let's begin, shall we?

Friday, February 8th/Saturday, February 9th:

After way, way, WAY too much drama about figuring out how to get to the airport at 4 in the morning [and I would just like to say that if people listened to me from the start, all of that trouble could have been completely avoided. I am good at planning. Everyone should know this, damnit], all 3 of my traveling partners [pictured to the left, with Meghann] and myself got a couple short hours of sleep in my apartment before a cab picked us up and drove us all 15 minutes of the way to Ciampino, where we had to wait for about half an hour to check in because the airport doesn't actually open until 4.45. Go figure. We did check in successfully, and even though our plane was a little bit late, the flight was a success. Let me tell you a bit about RyanAir, though. It's one of the 2 really cheap airlines in Europe right now, and the reason the flights are so cheap is because for the entire duration of the plane ride you are bombarded with advertisements. It's ridiculous. And the inside of the plane is so-bright-it-gives-you-a-headache yellow. Which I'm assuming some study said would make people buy more shit. I bought the most expensive tiny water bottle of my life [the whole no liquids on airplanes thing is so incredibly stupid it makes me want to cry. Let's face it, people. If someone really wants to do something badly enough, they're going to find a way to make it happen. Making us throw out bottles of hair gel isn't saving lives, it's just causing migraines. Stepping off the soapbox now...] for 3 euro. Anyway, we landed, we all clapped and cheered wildly [one of my favorite Italian customs], and we were in Paris.
Except we weren't actually in Paris. The airport has the word "Paris" in it to fool us innocent cheap customers, but it's actually about an hour away. So we bought 13euro bus tickets while waiting in the freezing cold, hopped on the bus, and slept through the 40 minute ride. My dear and lovely friend Meghann was kind enough to meet us at the bus station and take us to our hotel. Turns out even the bus station wasn't really in Paris. We had to take many a-Metro to get to where we wanted to be. We found our hotel, checked in, unpacked a bit, and were off. Meghann took us to get some vittles, because we were all famished, and we all delighted in our very first kebab [see picture below]. I don't even know how to describe the wonderfulness that is a kebab. I have photos of kebaby-glory but I can't show you yet. Let's just put it this way: you get a tasty bun with whatever sauces and condiments and vegetables you want [or don't want], and then they shave off about a pound of chicken from the twirly meat-cooker thing and pile it up in the bun and serve it to you with a large amount of fresh frites. The rest of the world seriously needs to get up on this kebab thing. It's glorious.
Anyway, after our first kebab, Meghann took us to her apartment [which, including bedroom, kitchen, toilet room, and bathroom, measures about 9ft by 9ft] in the Latin Quarter, which is this ridiculously awesome neighborhood in which we walked around for a while and marveled at all the cheeses and pastries. Meghann introduced us to our second Parisian addiction, the macaroon, which has little to nothing in common with the American macaroon except for the fact that both are varieties of a wonderful little thing we call a cookie.
I don't really exactly remember what happened after that, but we went back to our hotel eventually, where Mike and I changed and got ready to go to a concert, which was about a 10 minute walk from our hotel. Very convenient. It was at this awesome venue: it was underground, very small, and had a cool bar/restaurant thing attached to it. The band that was supposed to open, Apostle of Hustle, actually didn't show up, which I was super disappointed about because I love that band and wasn't particularly excited about the headliner, Stars. But all turned out quite well. The replacement openers were really, really awesome, Stars was about a billion times better than I expected them to be, and I got officially smashed for the first time on the European continent, thanks to a very stiff screwdriver and a large amount of beer, which I actually enjoyed, which is a miracle in itself. Drunk and extremely satisfied, what else was there to do on the way home except get food? Mike wanted a kebab [obv] so we found an open kebab place where I used the restroom and drunkenly broke their soap dispenser [I'm classy]. About 30 seconds after we left with his food, I decided I was hungry and I, too, wanted a kebab. So we found another kebab place, which made the best kebabs we had in Paris. We ran home to our hotel room and gorged ourselves. It was way more fun that it should have been, and then we passed the hell out.

Sunday, February 10th:

This glorious day we had planned in advance, and the plan was the unique and highly cultural experience that is Disneyland Paris. Meghann, Mike, and myself met up with my lovely, ladylike, and loud flatmate Emily [pictured with me, to the left] and her friend Eddie, and we took the RER to Disneyland. It was a wonderful, wonderful day. Pictures to come, of course. Let's see... highlights.. Space Mountain definitely kicks the black spacey ass of Space Mountain in Anaheim. Pitch black, upside down, so fast we were all crying when we got off. It was excellent. It was pretty much the best ride ever. We also went on their Haunted House [eh], Indiana Jones [eh], Pirates of the Caribbean [chill], and other things which I cannot remember at the moment. For lunch, we went to this all-American barbeque place where one could purchase the mysterious food item known as the Magic Cheeseburger. For a mere ten euro, you could experience magic of the meat-and-cheese variety. Or if you were a cheap punk-ass wimp, you could buy the simple cheeseburger for simpler people for 2 euro. What was the difference? I'm sure you're asking yourself by now. Well, lovely people, I will tell you: besides the magic, obviously, the difference, my dear friends, were two rare and elusive things we like to call lettuce and tomato.
I swear to god.
Magic.

Anyway, we split up not too long after lunch because Emily and Eddie bought park-hopper tickets while Mike, Meg, and me just wanted to explore Disneyland. We adventured around Fantasyland and went through Alice's Curious Labyrinth, which was quite scary, let me tell you, and ended up going on my favorite ride, the teacups, which ended up being way more fun than it had any right to be. Whatevs. We bought the obligatory parting candy and headed back home on the RER. Mike and I, instead of actually going home, went to another concert. This venue was really funky. It looked like your typical high-school theater, with a ghetto stage and risers and wings and stuff, but it also ended up being pretty cool. The band we saw, British Sea Power, rocked pretty damn hard, and the opener, some French acoustic guitarist, sang a cover of some ridiculous song which I am forgetting the name of right now but will ask Mike and correct this later. Yes. Another Parisian day, well-spent.

I'm going to end here for now, because I need to go to class kind of soon, and I've had enough typing for the hour. Look for the second installment soon.