Hotel de Leopol
Trip Start
Jun 16, 2007
1
20
25
Trip End
Aug 11, 2007
Where I stayed
Yesterday my 12:15 p.m. flight from Nairobi to Addis Ababa was cancelled and I was rescheduled on to the 6:15 p.m. flight. Fortunately for boredom's sake, I met three Canadians that were in the same situation as me and so we spent our time having lunch and chatting away about hockey and hippos and whatever else came to mind.
I arrived at the Hotel de Leopol (Leopard Hotel) around 9:00 at night happy and in good spirits after a long drawn day spent at the airport was finally over.
The studio room I rented came with the standard amenities along with a tacky leopard print blanket. The bell boy, a slim light-skinned man in his early twenties, accompanied me to my room. We sat down next to each other exchanging the typical 'foreigner meets local' information. I think nothing of it until he suddenly gets fixated with my Chelsea soccer jersey. The tone in his voice is odd and suspicious and I begin to wonder if his friendliness is of a more physical nature rather than a hospitable one. He then asks me if I am a Chelsea fan begins to brush his fingers on my insignia. Okay, I think you know where this is going.
Awake and alert, I play a little defense, performing a yawn and stretch routine and expressing my readiness to retire for the night, solo-style. He looks deflated but his lust for this portly Chino body is too strong. He gives it another try kneeling down in front of me and begins to take off my shoes. I am unmoved and raise my index finger at him. And just like Bruce Lee in the Chinese Connection I wave my finger slowly side to side and give him that cocky smirk that sends his head down. There is no more to be said. He knows. He leaves.
Finally, after a warm shower, I lay in bed, falling asleep watching a little tube as I wrap myself around my warm leopard skin comforter. zzzzzzzzzzzzz
I arrived at the Hotel de Leopol (Leopard Hotel) around 9:00 at night happy and in good spirits after a long drawn day spent at the airport was finally over.
The studio room I rented came with the standard amenities along with a tacky leopard print blanket. The bell boy, a slim light-skinned man in his early twenties, accompanied me to my room. We sat down next to each other exchanging the typical 'foreigner meets local' information. I think nothing of it until he suddenly gets fixated with my Chelsea soccer jersey. The tone in his voice is odd and suspicious and I begin to wonder if his friendliness is of a more physical nature rather than a hospitable one. He then asks me if I am a Chelsea fan begins to brush his fingers on my insignia. Okay, I think you know where this is going.
Awake and alert, I play a little defense, performing a yawn and stretch routine and expressing my readiness to retire for the night, solo-style. He looks deflated but his lust for this portly Chino body is too strong. He gives it another try kneeling down in front of me and begins to take off my shoes. I am unmoved and raise my index finger at him. And just like Bruce Lee in the Chinese Connection I wave my finger slowly side to side and give him that cocky smirk that sends his head down. There is no more to be said. He knows. He leaves.
Finally, after a warm shower, I lay in bed, falling asleep watching a little tube as I wrap myself around my warm leopard skin comforter. zzzzzzzzzzzzz
