but i was having a gentle pee-mergency in my body and could not wait to get inside the hostel to urinate properly. in fact, my anxious bladder got me past the hostel security much faster than both travises who did not have to pee. and had it not, i would've blamed the wetness on the rain, and the smell on the tenderloin.
anyway, the hostel was recently rated the #1 hostel in the united states-- complete with a semi-bar, pool table, smoking room, and an onslaught of french folk.
at first, it was a bit awkward because we not only knew no one but couldn't speak any of the languages circling us.
and also because i was the guy who had to ditch his friends before they'd even gotten inside in order to prevent pissing his pants.
after a while of standing and smoking and having no idea how to start talking to all the strangers, i decided to shout the most universally pleasant word one could shout at a hostel full of poor artist-type travelers:
from there, conversation began.
though, i might have hung out with some of the swedish friends too long, because there was a moment later in the night when a man mistook me for swedish and, in turn, i mistook him for swedish. neither of us were swedish then, and to the best of my knowledge neither of us are today. but he approached me asking if i am a student at the academy of art and i told him i'm not. then he asked if i could speak swedish and i told him i could only speak english-- and not even very well. then it got awkward and i left.
i would've tried to save the conversation, but i was worried he wouldn't understand what i was saying unless i said whatever it was i had planned in swedish. and that wasn't happening.
a few of our friends showed up, and simon came by after he got off work around 11pm. but in the end, when liquor had thoroughly infested our blood streams, a lot of people seemed to get less friendly. no one was outwardly rude (except for the spanish people who pretended that cerrado was not a word after i heard them use it and asked "como se dice cerrado en ingles?"), but it did seem that groups clung to each other the drunker they got instead of a normal party where everyone is anxious to meet one another.
i had hoped that being surrounded by people from all around the world would've been more interesting than it was. some people were friendly, but most conversation seemed to be locked in a "where are you from" sort of path. and only a select few of the groups wanted to really engage in mind-blowing conversation.
but, i did run into the-man-who-was-not-swedish a second time. and this time, he was speaking italian with simon. and i realized there was likely a misunderstanding when we'd first met.
he ended up being italian, and one of the coolest people at the hostel. he and i preached about art back and forth and his thoughts on the purpose of comedy were something my ears could use hearing more often. i snagged his business card and checked out his website despite his numerous warnings that "it's pretty crappy and i have better stuff that's not up yet."
i liked it.
on the way out of the party, we ran into the silver man from fisherman's wharf-- unpainted, sipping an o.e.-- and had a pretty alright conversation with him about daft punk, kraftwerk, and weather forecasts. but it was 3 or 4am and my brain had already fallen asleep long before. i mostly wanted to get home to sleep and wake up for saturday.
i suppose i'm glad i went. by no means did i have a bad time. i think i had just expected it to be 5x more epic than it was-- i'll blame that one on movies-- but i still got good and drunk and hung out with friends in a chaotic environment. and that's always nice.
but this friday-- today-- i might nap. i need it.
though i have a feeling i'll be convinced otherwise tonight.
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