Reflections on Europe, interrupted by ouzo

Oct. 29, 2008

It is just after 5 a.m. now here in Athens and in a few hours after the sunrises I will board a plane to Bahrain and then on to Delhi. I was going to take some time this morning to write a final entry from Europe, to reflect on my first two months on the road and remember all the places I've been and people I've met.

But that's not going to happen anymore. I sit here now in the common room of the Aphrodite House Hostel traumatized by two Canadian girls who couldn't handle their liquor.

Some time in the night, a British bloke and an American or Canadian guy busted into the dorm room with one of these Canadian girls limp in their arms. She fell into the bottom bunk adjacent my top bunk as another girl offered slurred instructions on how to take care of her. Then the sounds of quiet gagging and whisper-yelling were accompanied by the perfume of ouzo.

"We need a bucket," stage shouted the Brit.

After a short while things settled down. The girl barfed quietly from time to time in the bucket. I covered my head in my sleep sheet and threw on my iPod and fell back to sleep.

Some time passed when suddenly a loud thud sounded against the dorm room door.

"Can someone open the bloody door?" real-shouted the Brit.

Into the room he and the other guy stumbled with the second Canadian between them. She was thrown/placed in the bed beneath me. She then proceeded to puke all over herself and the floor near my shoes.

Everyone was awake at this point. Some of the others in the room seemed worried. I was just plain grossed out. I have no sympathy for people who can't handle their liquor. And as much as this trip has opened my eyes to all the possibilities of this world, of different jobs I could pursue, I know I will never be a nurse.

The room was an effluvium of ouzo and vomit (how do you like that word of the day?). I had to get out of there.

Downstairs I retreated to the computers. The bartender, a thin, tall blond from Australia, leaned languidly against the reception desk counting her tips, puffing on a cigarette.

"My room is a shitshow," I said, jokingly but tinged with real resentment. "This is your doing, isn't it."

The girl gave me an I-didn't-do-it shrug and laughed through an apology. Bitch!

Ugh. So now I sit waiting for daybreak. So long Europe. Right now, I couldn't leave you soon enough.