in which Lydia and I encounter more than our fair share of unwanted male attention in our one-day stint in the city, much to our simultaneous horror and amusement.
Our misadventures began in a beer hall. Guessing the principle man was oh, 45 or 50. Not to mention overweight and gross. From the moment we sat down, his whole table of five men at least in their 40s was checking us out. The biggest and least attractive of the lot comes up to us, starts talking to us. After finding out we were Amis (a German shortening for Americans), he swapped to English and proudly informed us he had lived in England for many years. In fact, he was proud to tell us his rugby shirt was from the UK–but he had lost a good deal of weight since then. He told us we looked pretty, asked us harmless questions about our lives, and Lydia stressed she was just starting uni–a good indicator we should be left alone, I feel. Poor Lyd was close enough to smell his breath and I couldn’t get over a gross silver tooth. Ew. He invited us to join him and his drunk friends, which we naturally declined. And he returned to them.
One of the crowd points at the man and tells us our buddy is a sugar daddy. And in a few minutes, he too comes to us, tells us he’s half-Canadian, and tries to chat. Initially, we thought he was just going to apologise for his friend, but clearly he was in it for the same thing. Eventually we shake him. After a bit the first one returns, turns to me and asks “Wir möchten mit euch flirten. Geht das, oder geht das nicht?” [we would like to flirt with you. Will that work?]. Um, not so much, sir. And he graciously wished us a nice evening. We thought we were done. Ha! Wishful thinking. As the table cleared, our buddy came back over, started chatting with us again. We expected a quick goodbye, but then he just wouldn’t leave. He apologised for his friends being “hooligans” (really, dude? Because you seem the worst of the lot…) and claimed he usually kept better company–university professors mostly. Doubtful. Then at one point he went too far–he picked up Lydia’s drink and makes a move to drink out of it. I start yelling at him in German, grab the glass from him, and tell him to beat it. He looks at me drunkenly confused, but obeys and heads out.
We finish our meal and go on back to our hostel, site of the remaining misadventure. Which began as we waited for the elevator and two twentysomething Irish guys started to talk to us. The elevator came, though, and we were off. We returned to the hostel bar shortly thereafter. We were sitting at a table, minding our own business when they returned. In true form, they each picked one of us. Lyd’s wanted her to guess his age within four years, for a drink (she was to buy if she lost). I was less lucky, as mine was more drunk and went straight to the point and informed me he would be kissing me shortly. No way, José. As his friend continued to distract Lydia, my buddy had another proposition: did I want to make out? He’d buy me a drink. Um, sorry, strangely unappealing. I’ve got someone who takes care of that for me. Plus, please observe my frequent coughing spells and lack of voice. Poor choice, sir. Not that logic was his strong suit.
Eventually Lydia made a sign as to indicate she had had enough. So we headed up to our room. Our first surprise was finding my Irish mate asleep in the stairwell.
We giggled and continued on up, only to find a girl sick in the bathroom. Gross. A minute of two later, a group comes in to check on her and Lyd and I go out and discuss our options, when we find ourselves joined by Matt, a friendly guy from Adelaide, Australia. Apparently he was responsible for the girl-wasn’t sure what to do with her, she was clearly sick, but he didn’t really know her at all. He proposed a beer, and wanting to avoid the room, we accepted. The beers? Green, for St Patricks Day. We chatted for a bit. He was nice, but he just seemed slightly off. Nothing particularly identifiable, but just a little weird. Eventually we were joined by a drunk Indian man, who had apparently lived in the US. His segue into our conversation: a double take upon seeing Lydia and me: “Are you guys twins?” After asking where we were from, he wanted to talk about how great Colorado is and how crappy Ohio is. Weirdo. Eventually we finish and head up to our room. Lydia noted as we headed up that my Irish pal had found a drunk blonde to replace me, to somewhat better effects.
When we got up, we were glad to see the girl had made it to a bed. Sigh. Apparently she was not even supposed to be there. She was working as an au pair and had a curfew at 11 the previous night. She woke up the whole room this morning around 6 when she came to. It involved lots of four letter words.
That more or less covered our adventures until Matt returned to the room just before we were leaving this morning. Clearly drunk. He told us sloppily he wanted to go to England but didn’t know how to get there. He seemed astonished when Lydia mentioned she was off to catch a flight at the airport (“they have one here?!?”). We left him sleeping and headed out.
What a night, what a night.
Interestingly, I have never before had an experience in a hostel that even remotely paralleled this one. What a way to introduce my sister into that world.