Europe 2026#
From infinite legroom and explosive water bottles in London to sweat-induced fine dining and chaotic football riots in Paris, this trip was a masterclass in European charm and survival. Here is how a massive crew, a few arcade-optimized sneakers, and one beautifully air-conditioned hotel room turned a simple vacation into an absolute comedy of errors.
Day 1: Bulkheads, Turbulence, and the Quest for a “McTasty” That Wasn’t#
The journey kicked off with a rare victory against the airline gods: checking in on my phone and scoring a free Main Cabin Extra seat at the bulkhead. If you aren’t familiar, this is the holy grail of economy travel. The wall didn’t go all the way down, meaning I had enough legroom to stretch out like royalty without the crushing existential dread of having to put my backpack in the overhead bin. But because the universe demands balance, the flight itself was a sleepless marathon. Thanks to tarmac delays, we didn’t take off until well after 8 PM, transforming my sleep schedule into a complete work of fiction. Total sleep acquired: approximately one hour.
To its credit, the airplane food was actually decent. The chicken and rice hit the spot. However, pairing airplane chicken with a couple of rum and cokes right before hitting a wall of turbulence is a tactical error I do not recommend. Let’s just say my stomach and the choppy airspace over the Atlantic had a very intense, deeply uncomfortable disagreement.
Miraculously, Heathrow was a breeze. I glided through the automated e-gates with zero lines, feeling like an international man of mystery. That feeling immediately evaporated when I spent the next 30+ minutes staring blankly at a departures board waiting for the Elizabeth line, which was suffering from delays. Naturally, the Piccadilly line was also having a mid-life crisis or undergoing “testing,” because why make things easy?
Once finally in the city, the mission was simple: stay awake at all costs. I mainlined caffeine from both Starbucks and Blank Street Coffee while wandering around the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, desperately waiting for lunch. Lunch was a traditional British Sunday Roast with Chives, Tusa, and the crew. It was a massive mountain of food that successfully revived my spirit. To keep the momentum going, Chives, Sanhak, Steven, and I ducked into a random pub for a half-pint of cider—because you can’t technically claim you’ve been to London without drinking fermented apple juice in a dimly lit tavern at midday.
We did a loop around Shoreditch (which features an impressive number of Asian businesses), marched across Tower Bridge, strolled along the river to London Bridge, and crossed back over. By the time we scaled the Sky Garden for another round of drinks, my legs were actively protesting. To cap off the night, we hit up Liverpool Street Station for some pasties and a midnight run to McDonald’s. I ordered the “McTasty,” a burger whose name is a legally binding lie. It was the definition of “mid.” Defeated by a burger and running on pure fumes, we finally split up. I stumbled back to the hotel, finished checking in, and immediately passed out.
Day 2: Explosive Water, Royal Traffic Jams, and Arcade Science#
I woke up at 12:00-something AM entirely disoriented, thinking I had successfully slept in and conquered jet lag. Plot twist: I had only slept for a few hours and my circadian rhythm was in shambles. I dragged myself down to the hotel breakfast to recover, fueling up on a proper English breakfast complete with sausage, eggs, beans, and tomatoes, plus a surprisingly tasty pastel de nata that had absolutely no business being there but was highly welcomed.
Fully caffeinated, Abdul and I headed over to Buckingham Palace to check out the Changing of the Guard. We managed to secure a premium, top-tier view of absolutely nothing from a terrible angle, all while waiting for Albert, who was predictably late due to London’s chaotic train system. Once we finally united, we took the classic tourist stroll through the park to see Big Ben and the London Eye. We actually rode the Eye, which offered spectacular views and a brief respite from walking.
Next, we took the train over to Borough Market for some classic fish and chips. This is where the lunch became a combat zone. Somehow, a bottle of water literally exploded on us, leaving me entirely drenched before the food even arrived. Once we dried off, we dived into fried fish and calamari for appetizers, followed by the main event of fish, chips, and mushy peas, which genuinely hit the spot. For dessert, we ordered sticky toffee pudding with ice cream. It was decent, though a bit too “bready” for my liking, but at least it didn’t detonate.
With a wet shirt and a full stomach, it was time for some retail therapy. I hunted down a pair of Adidas Adizero Adios 9 shoes. These are low-stack shoes engineered with super foam, which I am scientifically testing as my new secret weapon for high-level Pump It Up sessions.
To round out the night, we met up with the rest of the crew and some local UK rhythm game players at Dishoom. Chives took total control of the menu, ordering an absolute mountain of incredible Indian food with fantastic variety. After stuffing ourselves yet again, we hit up a nearby pub to grab some drinks, talk shop, and swap stories before I finally headed back to the hotel to see if I could manage more than a three-hour nap.
Day 3: Surviving Westfield Mall, Hawaiian Shirts, and the Miracle of Air Conditioning#
Woke up a bit late and running on pure exhaustion, but a hotel breakfast managed to breathe some life back into me. I hopped on the Overground train to the massive Westfield Mall to meet up with the crew. I started with a remarkably mediocre chicken shawarma from a Lebanese spot in the food court, which I quickly washed down with a Starbucks Frappuccino just as everyone caught up with me.
Then came the mandatory shopping mission. Peter had decreed that everyone must purchase a unique Hawaiian shirt for a mandatory group photo later in the trip, so I hunted down my designated pattern. I also ducked into Boots to grab some essential sunscreen and to fulfill a tracking mission for Mariuxi’s requested heat rub. To fuel the rest of the mall trek, we grabbed some crème brûlée bubble tea from The Alley—though sadly, the burnt sugar top lacked that premium, satisfying “shard” texture. We finished the retail run by raiding a Japanese grocery store for a haul of specialty alcohol.
The grand finale of the evening was heading to Haidilao to celebrate Sanhak’s birthday, and the restaurant did not disappoint. They gave us the absolute works: the chaotic birthday song, the hypnotic spinning noodle dance, and the traditional face-changing mask dance. The mask dancer even bestowed a tiny trinket upon me, making me feel like a chosen protagonist.
When dinner wrapped up, it became instantly clear that my hotel room was the designated VIP lounge for the night. In a city where European infrastructure aggressively battles the concept of modern climate control, I possessed the ultimate London luxury: functioning air conditioning. Since literally everyone else’s rooms were operating at greenhouse temperatures, my place became a freezing sanctuary. The entire crew piled into my beautifully chilled room, where we broke into the haul of sake and Strong Zeros, drinking and hanging out in crisp, cool comfort until well past midnight.
Day 4: Corporate Perks, Wizarding Traffic Jams, and an 11-Person Vegetarian Feast#
I woke up entirely too late for the hotel breakfast, which was the natural consequence of last night’s Sake and Strong Zero summit. Seeking immediate corporate asylum, I dragged my hungover self over to the Google 6 Pancras Square office for some emergency caffeine and brunch. Chives and Albert met up with me first at the rooftop cafe, and a few of the others joined later for lunch at the first-floor cafe. As a tech-bro food critic, I have to declare that Google NYC definitely clears the London offices in terms of culinary prowess—though I will give London a massive point for having a “London Fog” explicitly listed on the barista menu. Respect your roots.
Once properly revived, we made the classic tourist pilgrimage to Platform $9\ \frac{3}{4}$ at King’s Cross Station, mostly to witness the chaotic bottleneck of people trying to look like magical wizards. From there, Abdul and I split off and headed to the British Library to check out some actual historic magic: ancient manuscripts, including the real-deal Magna Carta. They were incredibly cool to see up close. Albert eventually rendezvoused with us mid-tour after stepping away for a quick tactical haircut.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the King’s Cross area and doing some light shopping before retreating to our respective rooms to rest up for the evening.
The dinner plan was supposed to be a grand culinary tour of the Wembley area, but navigating with a massive crew is like trying to herd hyperactive cats. Our squad had ballooned to a whopping 11 people because a bunch of the local UK Pump It Up players joined forces with us. After a flurry of group-chat miscommunications with Chives and Sanhak, Albert and I hopped on the Piccadilly line to travel together to the fallback destination. Because our rhythm game army was so deep, we had to abandon the multi-stop tour idea and settle on one massive venue that could actually seat all 11 of us: Saravanaa Bhavan, a legendary vegetarian Indian spot.
The pivot turned out to be an absolute win. The meal was spectacular, and Chives once again acted as our culinary dictator, ordering a massive, delicious variety of food that left everyone completely satisfied. Bloated on carbs and spices, I took the train straight back to the hotel and immediately went to sleep.
Day 5: Plundered Artifacts, Hawaiian Shirts#
I woke up, fueled up on breakfast, and took the Tube straight to the British Museum. I spent a few hours wandering through history, checking out Egyptian mummies, Greek and Roman statues, and massive collections of Assyrian, Indian, Chinese, and Japanese artifacts. There is certainly a unique irony in seeing half the world’s historical treasures neatly gathered in one single building in London, but the sheer scale of it was incredible—especially the iconic main courtyard, which I immediately recognized from the Doctor Strange movie.
After the museum, I took a tactical pit stop at my hotel to use the restroom before heading over to Soho to meet up with Chives, Sanhak, and Peter at a Costa Coffee. Once we caught our breath, we marched over to Las Vegas Arcade to rendezvous with the rest of the crew. We managed to coordinate a massive, near-full-group co-op play of Bad Apple, which was an absolute blast. Afterward, we finally debuted our mandatory, Peter-enforced Hawaiian shirts for an epic group photo. With the photoshoot complete, the group split up; the hardcore crowd headed out to Freeplay City—which was over an hour away—so I said my goodbyes, grabbed a consolatory boba, and went on a solo excursion.
To wrap up the evening, Abdul met me back at my hotel for dinner. I had about 75 GBP left on my Amex The Hotel Collection credit, so we used it to raid the hotel menu for food and drinks, which turned out to be surprisingly decent.
Because a hotel dinner is never quite enough, we capped off the night by walking around the neighborhood to pick up some classic British candy and snacks, followed by a final late-night stop at KFC. I ordered the Tower Zinger Burger, and honestly? It was pretty damn good.
Day 6: International Logistics, Backyard Steaks, and the Glow of Paris#
I woke up late and was treated to yet another profoundly disappointing hotel breakfast. On the bright side, I had scored a late checkout, so I took my sweet time getting ready and meticulously packing my bags. Naturally, this relaxed pace backfired spectacularly because I managed to leave my North Face rain jacket hanging completely forgotten in the closet.
After checking out, I took the Piccadilly line to King’s Cross to pay one final visit to the Google 6 Pancras Square office. Around noon, I raided their stash for an iced chai latte and some Häagen-Dazs ice cream to sustain me for the journey ahead. From there, I walked over to the Eurostar terminal to face security and customs. Boarding the train ended up delayed because the door to the second car was entirely jammed, forcing the crew to use my car’s door to load all the catering and luggage. Once we got moving, the setup was great—I had a nice, spacious seat with nobody next to me. They served a cold salmon bowl with lemonade for lunch. It was a decent meal, though realistically it tasted like a $10 airport grab-and-go. While cruising under the English Channel, I got some incredible news from the group chat: Sanhak generously offered to swing by my London hotel, rescue my abandoned jacket, and hand it off to Chives to bring back to NYC. Crisis averted by the power of friendship.
Upon arriving in Paris, I decided to walk to my hotel. This was a tactical error. It was fiercely hot outside, and by the end of the 40-minute trek, I was completely drenched in sweat and cursing my life choices. To make matters worse, I realized I had completely wasted the €14 day-pass for the Metro by not taking a single train. Absolute money down the drain. Once I finally collapsed into the hotel, Abdul met up with me and saved the day by gifting me some F1-shaped Kit Kats.
We dropped our bags and headed out for dinner, walking to a spot called Hippopotamus. We ordered some terrine and block foie gras, which were both genuinely good, but the main course of steak and fries was aggressively mediocre—we are talking baseline Outback Steakhouse tier. After dinner, we wanted a proper French pastry, but apparently, Paris closes its dessert shops by 8:00 PM even though the sun is still fully shining outside. We pivoted to Venchi, an Italian gelato chain, which absolutely delivered. The gelato was fantastic, and the cone lined with hazelnut chocolate spread was an elite touch.
Properly fueled by sugar, we took an Uber to the Eiffel Tower, arriving exactly as it was being lit up. Instead of its traditional golden glow, the tower was lit up in bright blue and red for the PSG football club, complete with a massive sign reading “Allez Paris.” We watched the iconic sparkle show and tried to buy tickets to the top, but the booth was completely sold out by the time we made it to the front.
The surrounding plaza had a chaotic energy that felt exactly like Canal Street in New York—just packed with street vendors trying to sell random trinkets, except significantly more annoying because half of them were aggressively flashing bright lights and laser pointers in your face. We escaped the neon gauntlet and took a long evening stroll past the Grand Palais and over to the Madeleine before finally splitting up to retire for the night.
Day 7: Designer Retail Lines, Subterranean Crypts, and Sweat-Induced Fine Dining#
I woke up, headed down to breakfast, and was thrilled to find that Paris finally broke the streak of terrible hotel food by serving up a genuinely nice French toast. With Abdul wanting to meet up a bit later at 12:30, I had some time to kill, so I ventured over to the Opera District to check out Galeries Lafayette Haussmann. The department store features a spectacular interior stained-glass dome and a rooftop terrace that offers sweeping, panoramic views of the Opera and the Eiffel Tower.
From there, I hopped on the Metro to the Arc de Triomphe and strolled down the iconic Champs-Élysées, where I met up with Abdul for some upscale window shopping. I had my eye on some gear at the Adidas flagship store, but European sizing is apparently a work of fiction—everything was absurdly long. The entire avenue was swept up in sports mania; the Nike store had a massive, soul-crushing line of people hunting for PSG football merch, and Lacoste was completely decked out for the French Open. To survive the heat, we made a tactical coffee stop at Starbucks to try their regional menu item: a caramelized banana shaken espresso, which was an absolute win.
For lunch, we snagged a table at Le Carré Élysée and shared their house specialty: a massive plate of steak, hash browns, foie gras, and a side salad. We washed it down with a strawberry lemonade that was—blessedly—actual, real-deal squeezed lemonade and not just a glass of Sprite.
Next on the tourist checklist was Notre-Dame. We managed to snap a few photos outside, but the queue to actually get in looked like a multi-hour commitment. Because the Parisian sun was absolutely melting us, we quickly pivoted and descended into the underground Crypt Archeologique museum. It was the perfect escape: blissfully cool subterranean air combined with a fascinating history lesson on ancient, Roman-era Paris. We spent a little more time wandering around the Île de la Cité before splitting up. Abdul headed out to catch his flight to the airport, and I retreated to my hotel to shower and change for the main event of the evening.
I took the train over to Auberge Nicolas Flamel for my 7:30 PM dinner reservation. I arrived a bit early and had to wait outside in the oppressive heat, actively sweating through the polo and slacks I had meticulously put on to satisfy the restaurant’s “smart casual” dress code. The building itself is incredible—it’s literally the oldest stone house in Paris, built in 1407, and it even has its own Wikipedia page.
The historical interior looks amazingly old-school, but because the structure predates the concept of electricity by about 500 years and features an open kitchen facing the dining room, it was a literal furnace inside. They had a single, room-sized portable AC unit chugging away in the corner, but it was doing absolutely nothing to battle the ambient heat. However, the food completely eclipsed the sweat-lodge conditions. It was hands-down the absolute best meal of the entire European trip.
My journey back to the hotel was where things got lively. My server actually pulled me aside to warn me to stay away from certain neighborhoods because of “hooligans,” though between the language barrier and my food coma, it was hard to pinpoint exactly where he meant. The city was in a total uproar because PSG had just won their match, resulting in a chaotic symphony of honking horns and yelling fans. I navigated the Metro safely and quickly, with the most intense encounter being a train car full of passionate Parisians aggressively belting out the national anthem inside the station.
Mercifully, my hotel over in the Madeleine district was completely quiet and peaceful. As I drifted off to sleep, I muttered a silent prayer of thanks that I hadn’t booked a room anywhere near the absolute madhouse of the Arc de Triomphe.
Day 8: Masterpieces, Malls, and the Mystery of the French “Taco”#
I woke up, hopped on the train, and headed straight to the Louvre Museum to cross some serious culture off the bucket list. We started with a guided tour, which was a great way to hit the legendary highlights without getting completely lost in the endless miles of art, even if it felt a bit brief. Once the tour wrapped up, I went rogue and wandered around the exhibits for hours, soaking in the history until the museum was practically closing its doors.
By that point, my brain was cultured but my stomach was running on empty, so I headed to the Westfield Forum des Halles mall to investigate the local fast-food scene. I decided to try O’Tacos to experience an authentic French “taco”—which, for the record, is actually a massive grilled wrap stuffed with things like chicken cordon bleu and French fries, defying all laws of Mexican culinary physics. Ordering from a touch screen was a breeze, but when it came time to collect my food, I had to frantically pull out Google Translate just to figure out what my order number actually sounded like in French. The taco wrap was surprisingly good, but because I have no self-control, I immediately followed it up with a kebab from another spot in the mall. Sadly, it was pretty mid—much like the one in London, it really suffered from a lack of that elite NYC-tier red sauce.
To save the culinary portion of the afternoon, I grabbed an ice cream from a local KFC that came loaded with Nutella and crunchy toppings. Honestly? It was way better than it had any right to be.
Before finally heading back to the hotel to collapse for the night, I made one last tactical detour into a nearby grocery store. My mission was simple: custom customs evasion via sugary contraband. I completely loaded up on local European candy to pack away for the flight back to the US, ensuring my future self would have plenty of snacks to fuel the inevitable jet lag.
Day 9: The Long Day of Departures#
I woke up a bit late and made a dash for the hotel breakfast, successfully scoring some Eggs Benedict and a waffle just as the staff was clearing the stations. Apparently, Parisian hotels operate under the strict assumption that humans should be fully functional much earlier on weekdays than on weekends.
Once I was dressed and ready, I stepped out to pay a visit to the local Google office near Gare Saint-Lazare, which was a pleasant 15-minute stroll from my hotel. Compared to the massive, loud corporate footprints in New York, London, or Tokyo, the branding here was remarkably stealth mode. If you weren’t paying attention, you’d entirely miss it—just a tiny splash of Google colors on the main gate and a solitary Android logo. I made myself at home in their micro-kitchen, indulging in a nice strawberries-and-cream dessert snack and raiding their stash of Nutella cookies and Arizona Iced Tea.
On my walk back to the hotel, I made a tactical detour into a French pharmacy to stock up on La Roche-Posay sunscreen. Word on the street is that European sunscreens utilize far more advanced chemical filters than anything the FDA allows back in the US, sharing the same elite tier as the Korean sunscreens I hunted down in London.
After a final rest in my beautifully air-conditioned hotel room, I checked out and made my way to the Metro to head to the airport. The route only required a single transfer and was smooth sailing, save for a dramatic moment near the airport where transit enforcement officers swooped in to audit everyone’s fares. They took their jobs very seriously; I watched some poor soul get slapped with a hefty fine on the spot because they hadn’t purchased the specific airport-line ticket extension. Check your tickets, folks.
Once I reached Charles de Gaulle Airport, the perks of flying Business Class kicked in. Thanks to Sky Priority, I bypassed the massive terminal lines and found exactly one person ahead of me at both security and passport control. I glided through to the Air France lounge, which honestly turned out to be a bit mid. I ordered a glass of whiskey that hit me surprisingly hard, leaving me feeling heavily buzzed in a very short amount of time.
I lost track of time in my whiskey-induced haze and left the lounge entirely too late. By the time I finished the grueling, 10-plus-minute hike to my departure gate, the monitors were flashing “FINAL BOARDING CALL” in aggressive red text. I did the frantic airport jog, boarded the plane, and collapsed into my massive Business Class pod. The seat itself was incredibly spacious, though it featured those deeply annoying, car-style over-the-shoulder seatbelts that make you feel like you’re strapped into a rollercoaster.
Since I was already riding a heavy buzz from the lounge, I decided to lean into it and accepted a complimentary glass of champagne from the crew. I spent the 7-hour flight aggressively consuming random media on the inflight entertainment system. I watched the new F1 movie, checked out Marty Supreme, and fell down an absolute rabbit hole with K-Pop Idols from Apple TV+. The episodes featuring Vanilla Ice and the group Kep1er were so unintentionally hilarious that I think I’m officially a fan now.
The onboard food was only okay, but the Air France flight attendants were next-level attentive. They checked in on me so many times throughout the flight that I felt like a pampered king.
Upon landing back in the US, I zipped through Global Entry in record time, ordered a Lyft straight back to my apartment, and immediately crashed into my own bed—successfully bringing a chaotic, unforgettable European tour to a close.
