Now just listen up, she's a professional.

So the Following is a email I dug up from the ol archives. Its something I received from a friend who was playing for the first time in Europe. Thought you might like to hear what her deal was like.

Europe is sweet, and I have some Canadian company in (canadian name) which is nice. My gripe of the day is concerning our fans.

We have a group of rowdy obsessive middle age (male) fans that follow us from game to game with drums, noise makers and copious amounts of alcohol. And we're talking road games that are six and seven hours away mid-week so I'm beginning to think these men are all unemployed and without families which would explain a lot. And it's not like they take their own cars either (how can you afford one when you never work on Wednesdays and Saturdays), they travel with us on OUR bus and usually begin drinking around 11 am for an 8 pm game. So that's just great. For example this weekend we traveled to (european town). We had to be at our bus at 7:30 am to leave for a 7 pm game. Every fan has to make a point of coming around the bus and giving me a high five at 8 in the morning when all I want to do is curl up for three more hours of sleep. Instead I have to make stupid small talk in dumb broken english (the language I now speak) and pretend I'm happy to see these dirty, smelly men. There's one especially, I call him Zack Galifranakis because he has a nasty beard and according to my team mates he is not all there in the head, who INSISTS on talking to me in (a euro language) over the back of my seat when I am not only reading an ENGLISH book, but also have my headphones in listening to ENGLISH music. Then every two hours we stop so the fans can go and indulge their chain smoking habit then come back in and stink up the bus. Zack G takes special pains to make sure that the area near my seat smells like an ashtray. It quickly becomes the longest 6 hour bus trip I've ever taken. Unfortunately that's the pleasant leg of the journey.

On the way back, I start to regret that we actually won the game because the fans are extra jovial as a result. Again, whilst reading and listening to music I am forced to down five shots and one glass of champagne otherwise I risk getting a reaction of whiney, pouty faces from these randoms that have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than get drunk (near) a group of exhausted volleyball girls just so they feel cool. And, you guessed it, every five minutes I have to look up from my novel to give another high five. So if I don't give you a high five next time I see you, please dont take it personally, I've simply used up my quota for the next two lifetimes. (by the way this sucks cuz who doesn't dig a high five?)

When I finally get to sleep at around 3 am and most of the rowdy losers have calmed the fuck down or passed out, I am rudely awakened by a cow bell. Yes, a cow bell. In my ear. Get me the fuck out of this country. It seems that the fans have gotten a second wind now that we're back in (our home town) and they start high-fiving everything with a hand. I asked the girl next to me how to say "shut your face" in their language but then lost my nerve to actually use it. At 5 am back in my own place I am so tired and grumpy, I had no idea the situation was so bad over here.

Other than that everything is great! You heading back to Canada after you're done or what? Til next time, take care over there,

(girls name)

So there you have it folks. sometimes our job is sweet. sometimes there are hidden perks, sometimes there's hidden... anti perks. I'm not trying to sway anyone from playing pro or whatever, just thought u might want some insight. being a girl playing in Europe. Peace from the Middle East.