In my travels I’ve stayed in many hostels, with many different people. Mostly experiences have been good, people are friendly and are usually quite considerate. Sure, there have been noisy early morning packing and noisy drunken roommates, but cases of true woe are very rare. But they do happen…
I live in a long-term hostel while working in London for a few months before going travelling again. I got home from work on Monday to find a new guy had moved into my 3-bed dorm. He was French, spoke little English, was about my age and seemed like a nice enough guy, although perhaps a little fixated on his phone.
It was 3 p.m. and I was relaxing on my bed after a half day at work. He went out, returning 10 minutes later with a 1 litre bottle of vodka. I figured he was going to have a couple of drinks later until he opened the bottle and started chugging. In three chugs he gulped down half the bottle! This is only having been in the hostel an hour.
I decided to vacate for a bit, so grabbed my laptop and headed to a local cafe, letting reception know what was happening as I went past. An hour later I returned to find him standing out front of the hostel hanging onto the steel fence totally unaware of the world around him. I even spoke to him, but if he heard be he didn’t show it. I went inside but came back out to find him sprawled on the ground. I picked him up and half dragged, half carried him to the room, where he promptly passed out on his bed. His phone rang a few times while he slept oblivious.
We need a fob to get into the hostel and he’d dropped his outside. I’d picked it up and put it on the table at the end of his bed. A few hours later he awoke completely disoriented. Our beds are quite thin and his was in the middle of the room. Whenever he tried to get up, he would fall off the other side. He would then get back onto the bed only to fall off the other side. This happened several times.
Finally upright, he searched through his pockets and sighed loudly, then started taking off his clothes. In his underwear, he searched the pockets of his pants again and sighed, again. All this time he was checking his phone every 30 seconds or so.
There is only one window in our room, near the end of my bed and I have a bag under it. He got up and groggily made a b-line towards it with the obvious intention of pissing out it. Yes, pissing. I stopped him, dragged him back to his bed, where he promptly fell off again. Then sitting spread-eagled on the floor, he began to pull down the front of his underwear. I dashed across the room, grabbed the room’s small rubbish bin and thrust it between his legs just as he let rip. Not the most pleasant experience I’ve had, that’s for sure. It didn’t all go into the bin either, some pooled around him. When he’d finished, he slumped onto the bed and went back to sleep.
I went to speak with reception, the police were called, but could not do anything as he hadn’t been violent. They suggested we let him sleep it off and ask him to leave the next morning. I asked for a cleaner to come up with a mop. While the cleaner mopped up the piss, he simply sat on his bed and said nothing, checking his phone. Afterwards he went back to sleep.
An hour later he woke and got dressed. He again searched his pockets, sighed, grabbed his cigarettes and took one out. He searched his pockets again, then headed to the window where he tried to light the cigarette. I stopped him and told him to go outside. After another failed check through his pockets he left the room.
A minute later someone came in and said he was smoking in the hall. I rushed out and stopped him, then called the receptionist who arrived with a french speaking guest in tow. A verbal warning was given. He then found his fob under something he’d put on the end table and went outside to have a smoke.
He slept through the night, but woke at 5 a.m. and woke us up by noisy packing and leaving the room. He returned about 15 minutes later, took another chug of vodka and went back to sleep.
It was my day off, so I went to breakfast and spoke with the morning receptionist who told me they’d given him a written warning. One more issue and he was out. After breakfast I went to the local cafe and on my return found he’d been evicted.
We speculated that this had all been over a breakup, based largely on his constant checking of his phone. But it could have been anything, none of us will ever know. Ah well, another story to tell of my travels…
Until next time,