Underneath the top bunk.

Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
1
114
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Trip End Ongoing


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Flag of Panama  ,
Thursday, January 19, 2012

I really should know better by now.  By this I mean I shouldn't have checked into a hostel that has  bar attached to it.  I'm clearly the oldest person here too, maybe not clearly for them, as I still look about twelve, but I'm surrounded by children.  Screaming, bawling, drinking children.  A sign says you get a free T-shirt and a picture on the 'wall of fame' if you consume a hundred beers during your stay here.  Well done you fucking idiots, you've paid $100 to get a Polaroid of yourself looking like a total wanker, a crap shirt, a damaged liver, and you probably made a total tit out of yourself in the process.  WOOP! WHOOP!  You're a legend dude.  Rad.  Etc.

Added to this I've had a night from hell.  Still suffering an attack of low self esteem and acne, I've hidden myself away at an early hour.  I manage a troubled sleep, until the point when the light comes on to a giggling soundtrack.  These bunk beds are clearly in for a work out.  The light is flicked off, and the creak of wood and chuckle of voice is heard as two people make their way to the top bunk.  Above mine.  I'm then hard rocked properly awake for the next two hours, as a full on sex session takes place over my head.  We're talking the whole kit and caboodle.  It's actually pretty impressive, if I wasn't so pissed off.

After the stallion Israeli climbs off the moaning Argentinian, I figure I can catch some zzzz's.  That is until the door flies open, the light is flung on again and the party erupts.  I cover my head with the pillow, curl into a pathetic fetal position and wish that it all goes away soon.  Which it doesn't.  Obviously.

I end up sleeping very late as a result, and I haven't done anything today save drink a ton of water and eat a truck load of bananas.  It's not getting any better and to be honest I'm feeling fucking miserable.  Can you tell?  I might just get drunk.
  



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