In Haarlem, I spent the evening drinking sweet tasting rose beer, drumming my fingers on the bartop as a dutch band play tightly in the corner. Looking at my watch I realise that it's getting late.
Not only am I in a town I dont know, but I'm in a country I've only just set foot in. It dawned on me I had better make an attempt to get to the Hostel. Staggering alone through the streets that I had only just been introduced to that morning, I make it to the bus stop and manage to get on the correct bus, as it slides effortlessly through the quiet, wide streets of Haarlem.
Out towards the outskirts of town is the Hostel, and I am still sloshing about on the bus seat from too much beer. I'm suprised with myself that I've made it this far without getting lost. I Slink into the hostel quietly, then into my room.
Everyone else is already asleep and in my experience, rather than make a mess all over the floor, I decide to get up onto my bunk before any attempt try to undress is made. The reason that I always have the top bunk is for this very reason; while attemptng to climb up the ladder to my bunk, my drunk leg swings into the bunk underneath and kicks the person below in the head. Realising what has just happened, I spring up into bed and feign a deep sleep in a desperate attempt to shift the finger of blame.
The morning blurs around, and the rest of the room begins to murmur. Poking my head out of the bunk to expect repercussions, I spot a girl in her underwear stretching off her slumber, she walks over and says something to the male on the bunk below.
Now i really feel sorry for him, I've kicked him in the head and just seen his girlfriend in her underwear.I fall back to sleep hazily drunk, awaking a little later when the room is empty. I sheepishly enter the breakfast room on my own, to feast on cold meats and cheese.