"We haven't found the missing girl from NYC yet" is always a RED FLAG
If you ever hear “we still haven’t found the missing girl from NYC yet” run, don’t walk
Oh London---after having some time to reflect on this trip, the events that occurred just become more obscure and funny. London ended up being one of my favorite cities, but the arrival and first night there makes for a great story.
After a flight, taking the train to the city center, and a taxi to our hostel we had finally arrived in London. We had a late flight, which is factor #1 of this story leading to the climax. We had heard of the hostel from some friends, and a lot of people in our program were in London this weekend--staying at the same hostel or one other than us. I stayed in a hostel in Amsterdam, but for most of us this was the first experience.
We walk up the staircase and find an empty ‘lobby’ aka 4 sq ft area with a closed office. We understood this because it was so late..but then there was a girl skyping. Standing there trying to figure out what to do, we kept overhearing bits and pieces of her conversation--but one specifically stuck out: “Ya, we still haven’t found the missing girl from NYC, but whatever.” This my friends is what we in America would call a RED FLAG. Ignoring this red flag, factor #2.
After living in France for almost a month, we collectively were excited to visit an English speaking city. And here comes factor #3. Behold--our savoir to not being able to check in: someone who works here? Nope, a Spanish speaking man who is trying to tell us something about leaving or upstairs or something of the sorts that we all couldn’t figure out. Then, a few minutes later, a man came down. I wish I had a picture because I can’t adequately describe his frightening mannerisms, looks or most importantly, vibe he gave off in words.
He was tall with dreads down his back tied with a band, his eyes were red and glassed over, and although he seemed cool, his laisez-faire way of not checking our ID’s and ushering all of us to certain rooms and beds without any formalities was concerning. Factor #4--we booked an 18 person room. So now, we all are in the small lobby with one of our friends in a separate room upstairs trying to find our bunk beds indicated by letters in the dark black where everyone else was sleeping. There were jeans, jackets, and other assorted personal belongings draped over the bunks and even on some of our beds, which we couldn’t find in between the small space and sleeping people. One man sat up in bed and turned to my friend saying, “has no one introduced you?”…another language barrier in the English speaking country.
Naturally, we figured we could use a drink before sleeping with our 17 new best friends. We assumed it wouldn’t be too tough to find a pub or somewhere to grab a bite. We were wrong. After a two-hour venture around the streets of London and settling with questionable kebabs, we headed back to our hostle. When we ‘checked’ it we were given a code to the door. There, preached against the door was a man. We weren’t sure if he was drunk, sleeping, or f***ed up but regardless he was blocking our only entry to the door to our lovely beds we so desired.
After a few minutes of observing him, I went up and went for the ‘sir, sir’…nothing but a blank stare and eyes rolled back into HIS head met my efforts. I stepped back and we reevaluated what to do. During our collaborations, the man got in a fight with gravity and fell face first onto the concrete. Looking back, this may have been our one chance to step over him and run into the hostel, but he got up pretty quickly and preached lifeless smack against the door. We didn’t know if this was someone who stayed at the hostel, or if he was a good or bad guy but we also didn’t want to let some random person into the hostel where hundreds of people were fast asleep.
Then, it started to rain and we were left homeless on the streets. After so long, we decided we had to find a hotel. A walk down the street left us in a hotel lobby crying and covered in rain to some poor employee. He was sympathetic….very sympathetic. Ten minutes and 160 pounds later we found ourselves in a suite--overlooking the London eye. The best part about this fiasco? It cost us 40 pounds each and had an amazing breakfast included. Our lovely hostel cost us 36. Nuff said, lesson learned.
In our flee from the hostel, we left all our stuff..so after our gourmet breakfast we walked back over. The same man that met us the previous night was now trying to manipulate us. “Okay girls, I’m sorry for your troubles. You can just pay for last night and I’ll relieve you from the next two.” Something triggered in me…and I got pissed. After 21 years of witnessing my mother always somehow get her way I used the best logic I had to get out of this mess.
“So, you’re telling us that we have to pay for a night at your establishment, that we physically did not and physically could not sleep at? So you want our money, in exchange for what?” I stated this logic about three more times before he caved, and we left. What a smuck.
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