Hostel : Glasgow : Night moves
I’ve dug up a bit out of an old travel journal.
One night while tucked up in our beds, all eight guys were woken by loud female shouting, out in the stairwell. A truly sublime pair of unfettered bosoms, filled to the quivering liquid brim with booze, burst through the door. She was atmospherically rim lit by light spilling in through the open doorway as she bounced into the room, and planted rank alcoholic kisses on the guy occupying the bed nearest the door.
A girlfriend appeared and dragged our invader back to her room.
A heavy, round silence closed around us and when it seemed that no more action would unfold, one of the guys on a bottom bunk got up and closed the dorm door.
On another occasion, I was woken by someone moving close to my bed. Something must have been up, cause the guy that sleeps below me usually doesn’t interrupt my slumber.
A head was moving around in the dark, and I recognised its silhouette as the young guy who occupies the lower bunk across the room.
He was standing quite close to my bunk, and then I heard a splashing sound, like someone was pouring a glass of beer out on the ground.
‘What are you doing’ I queried?
No reply, just the sound of liquid being emptied out onto my pack which I kept wedged between the bunk and an old wardrobe.
You have got to be kidding, I thought.
‘Hay buddy, what are you doing?’ I said.
Not a word in reply, he just finished up and went back to bed.
The ‘sleep pissing’ was the hot topic of conversation the next morning when house mates beginning their day found me washing everything I owned in the laundry.
‘Sleep pissing’ is not unknown, especially among girls who have discovered that their drunken boyfriends have used the wardrobe as a toilet during the night. Someone related a disturbing story of ‘sleep shitting.’
When questioned on what I was going to do about the incident ‘officially’ (that is, involving the hostel owners) as there are some types of antisocial behaviour that will get you kicked out of most hostels. I decided that since the young guy was usually quite inoffensive, and he was a bit stressed with the uni course he was working though. I’d leave off involving the owners.
One night while tucked up in our beds, all eight guys were woken by loud female shouting, out in the stairwell. A truly sublime pair of unfettered bosoms, filled to the quivering liquid brim with booze, burst through the door. She was atmospherically rim lit by light spilling in through the open doorway as she bounced into the room, and planted rank alcoholic kisses on the guy occupying the bed nearest the door.
A girlfriend appeared and dragged our invader back to her room.
A heavy, round silence closed around us and when it seemed that no more action would unfold, one of the guys on a bottom bunk got up and closed the dorm door.
On another occasion, I was woken by someone moving close to my bed. Something must have been up, cause the guy that sleeps below me usually doesn’t interrupt my slumber.
A head was moving around in the dark, and I recognised its silhouette as the young guy who occupies the lower bunk across the room.
‘What are you doing’ I queried?
No reply, just the sound of liquid being emptied out onto my pack which I kept wedged between the bunk and an old wardrobe.
You have got to be kidding, I thought.
‘Hay buddy, what are you doing?’ I said.
Not a word in reply, he just finished up and went back to bed.
The ‘sleep pissing’ was the hot topic of conversation the next morning when house mates beginning their day found me washing everything I owned in the laundry.
‘Sleep pissing’ is not unknown, especially among girls who have discovered that their drunken boyfriends have used the wardrobe as a toilet during the night. Someone related a disturbing story of ‘sleep shitting.’
When questioned on what I was going to do about the incident ‘officially’ (that is, involving the hostel owners) as there are some types of antisocial behaviour that will get you kicked out of most hostels. I decided that since the young guy was usually quite inoffensive, and he was a bit stressed with the uni course he was working though. I’d leave off involving the owners.
As a backpacker who has availed herself of the offerings of Lonely Planet and hosteled it many a time, let me just say yikes! That's a new one on me. There's some consolation in "sleep pissing," I suppose; it's better than being robbed.
ReplyDelete[this is good] so interesting! hope it doesn't happen to me... but still interesting!
ReplyDeletep.s. This posting inspired me to dig through my own memories of hosteling and an unpleasant experience but all I come up with is bupkus. So either it's there and I'm still in total denial or I had it pretty good. I could however blog about my terrible experiences with Italian men that drove me out of the country but then I'd have to go shower. Best leave well enough alone.
ReplyDelete[this is good] I have to disagree with Waterbaby - I DON'T think that it's better than being robbed :)
ReplyDeletetravelsofbryan - Why for you is being robbed preferable to "sleep pissing"?
ReplyDeleteToo funny!
ReplyDeleteEither way you will lose your stuff. At least when it is stolen you don't have to actually touch it after someone has pissed on it....
ReplyDeletetravelsofbryan - lose? not necessarily. things can be washed, toweled off, whereas if they're stolen, with rare exceptions, they're gone for good.
ReplyDeleteNot all possessions can be replaced. What of the memory of being robbed? That wouldn't stay with you?
ReplyDelete