Mixed Dorm

Ahh, hostels: The true student-traveler experience. I spent two nights in Hostel Allessandro, a very nice hostel nearby the train station. It was clean, the staff was friendly, and there was free wifi in the rooms. There was even a bar downstairs. What more could I need? However, my very first night in the mixed 8-bed dorm turned out to be quite disastrous.

            I was alone when I checked in, but could see that there were people staying in my room with me. When I got back around 11:30 that night, everyone was sleeping and it was pitch-black, so I met none of the people I’d be sharing the room with. I didn’t know if they were girls or boys, though due to the snoring I was hearing around me, I assumed they were all large, middle-aged men with sleep apnea. With the smell coming from the one next to me, I assumed they were all large, middle-aged men with sleep apnea who hadn’t showered in a while. It was all very stressful. That and the noise from a drunk American girl outside (“NO… I BELIEVE IN GOD, OKAY?”) kept me awake for a while. After a while, I finally fell asleep, only to be awoken by someone’s phone at around 4 am. This someone didn’t answer, clearly dead to the world. Praying it was just a call and not an alarm, I went back to sleep.

            The phone went off again a short while later. And again. And AGAIN. I was starting to worry no one else in the room could hear it, as nobody seemed to be awake, including the person who’s phone it was. On the ninth ring (I was counting) what turned out to be a girl on the top bunk across the room jumped down and attempted to rise the sleeping person. “Hey! Your phone is ringing!” The sleeping person turned off the noise and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Several people (all Americans, two girls and one boy) said things like, “That’s gone off a million times.” And “Thank God.” However, we had spoken too soon, when the alarm went off a tenth time several minutes later. I took initiative this time, clapping my hands in front of the sleeping person’s face. (How do you wake up someone you don’t know? You aren’t really allowed to touch them. It’s an awkward situation) The person turned out to be a girl, who woke up, as I informed her, “Your alarm’s going off, by the way.” But all she said was “oh…” and I was worried it had gone to sleep again.  She had. The eleventh time the alarm went off, the boy above her, who had been quiet until now, snapped. “Are you RETARDED?” He yelled. “Your phone is going off and keeping everyone awake! Do you have somewhere you need to be??” We all tried to reason with her, but it was beyond her to form coherent sentences. I asked her if she was drunk, and she said, “No, I’m just….“ and let out a large sigh as she clearly drifted off again. However, the not-so-quiet-guy had taken her phone and turned off the alarm, so we all went to sleep as well, thinking at last the ordeal was over.

            At 5:30 am, someone knocked on our door. Being a super light sleeper, I was the one to answer it, and an American girl and guy were standing outside. Trying to appear casual in my sleep-deprived state, all I could think of to say was, “What’s up?” I’m sure I’d said it in a more aggressive way than I’d meant because they both looked frightened and asked if Allie was in the room. “You must mean the girl whose alarm has gone off eleven times.”  I replied snarkily. “She’s over there, completely unconscious. You can deal with her.” Everyone in the room was awake now, except Allie, and was telling her friends what a pain she’d been all night. “Just get her up and LEAVE,” was the general consensus.  They had some sort of whispered conversation with her, trying to convince her to please get up, they had a flight to catch, etc. I wondered why they didn’t just pick her up and take her out of the room, she was clearly mentally handicapped in some way and reasoning with her wasn’t going to work.  After what seemed like forever, Allie got up and left. She came back about five minutes later to get her shoes, (which she’d walked out of the room without) but finally it was all over. And then we went to sleep FOR REAL.

            The next morning I had a very nice conversation with the two boys who had remained sleeping throughout the entire ordeal, and turned out to be French. I was excited to speak another language that I actually knew (Italian is foreign to me) and was ecstatic when one asked me for “crème solaire” and I knew what it was. So I suppose these random-room arrangements have pros and cons. But in this situation, I’d have to say the cons overruled pros. I wonder if Allie made her flight?