World Travel Guide Online

The Midnight Party

If you gave me a million dollars I would continue to stay in hostels wherever I travel. Why? Because that’s where the unique and interesting people of this world hide out. Give me a million dollars and I would change just two things: I’d travel more regularly and I’d shout my roommates more beers. Maybe I’d use those expensive Harrods bathrooms more often too.

Buckingham Palace

I took it easy for my first week in London. Eventually I had to get a job in order to earn some cash but in the meantime I allowed myself to ease into the whole OE. I walked a lot. In my view, London is the city for walking. Many of the major attractions are close together and I love everything about its parks; on most days you could find me strolling through at least one of them. I revisited places I’d seen on previous visits, such as Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey and Harrods. I caught the Tube with fresh excitement, eagerly anticipating the moment when the posh announcer would remind me to “mind the gap” as I disembarked.

But I also visited places that I hadn’t seen before, such as the Cabinet War Rooms (highly recommend for war history/Churchill enthusiasts), the village of Greenwich, and Wimbledon, which included a stroll on Wimbledon Common. For those fans of the Wombles, its theme music played over and over in my head (The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we!) as I scoured the grounds hoping for a glimpse of one. I swear I saw one disappearing behind a shrub…well it was either a Womble or a pigeon.

After spending the first week of my holiday paying nightly rates at the youth hostel I heard of a place in Bayswater that offered cheap weekly rates. I liked Bayswater due to its convenient location, being a stone’s throw away from Hyde Park, Oxford Street, Notting Hill and Kensington. I decided to check the hostel out. When I enquired at the front counter the receptionist tentatively explained that I would be rooming with three other people. I scoffed at this, airily informing her that I’d previously roomed with up to fifteen other people. She briefly regarded me, then shrugged her shoulders and started to organise my check in. As she did this, a scruffy chap with paint splattered overalls sauntered up and leant over the counter. He looked about 40, with a weathered expression on his face and a cigarette above his ear. A constant squelching noise escaped his mouth as he munched on his gum. As I filled out the registration card he stared keenly at me. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I handed the card back to the receptionist and as she was getting my key, he leaned over the counter and read it. He suddenly let out a chuckle.

“Ha! That’s my room.” Turning back he held out his hand. “My name’s Glenn, it appears that we are going to be sleeping together…”

As he grinned at me goodnaturedly, I immediately felt at ease. He cheerfully grabbed my backpack and showed me the way to the room, number 101, chatting as he went. Glenn originated from Bristol and it turned out that he was the maintenance manager for the hotel. As part of his employment he received free accommodation, which was why he was one of my new roommates.

The Hotel at Kensington Garden Square, Bayswater

It was hard not to reel back in horror upon entering the room. It was small. I mean, if you were to swing a cat, it would easily have smashed in to every wall. Two bunk beds were situated at right angles to each other, which meant you could reach out and touch any of your roommates as you slept (if you had a mind to). But I shrugged my shoulders; it was cheap and I didn’t think I was going to be here long. As Glenn put my bag down (which took up the remaining floor space), a second bloke rose from the bed and sleepily introduced himself. James was an accountant from Melbourne, early 20s, skinny, thick glasses and fuzzy hair. He proceeded to give me a tour of the room, which took all of five seconds.

“Here’s the room and there’s the bathroom,” he said, pointing to a closet-like space that seemed to only contain a toilet. “End of tour.” He paused before continuing. “And watch your elbows when brushing your teeth; we’ve lost a lot of toothbrushes.”

Upon closer inspection, I found a rusty showerhead drunkenly protruding from the wall and a sink situated immediately above the toilet. I noticed three loose toothbrushes hanging precariously over the sink’s edge and suddenly understood what James meant. Back in the room, he pointed to the upper bunk of his bed. He paused, surveying me with the tiniest crease of a smile.

“Looks like you’ll be sleeping on top of me tonight…” As Glenn burst out laughing, James looked at me gleefully, adding, “in a manner of speaking that is.”

I looked from face to face, realising that in the space of five minutes I had heard rather similar jokes about my ’sleeping arrangements’. Poor jokes yes; so poor that there was nothing else to do but join them in their laughing. As we wiped our tears away (sort of), I wondered what my third roommate would be like. I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

As I was sorting my bag out, trying to determine where on earth I was actually going to store it, the door flew open and a stocky bloke wearing Australian rugby jersey strode in. With single minded determination he walked straight past us and into the bathroom. Leaving the door open, he then proceeded to relieve himself for three very long minutes. It might not sound like too long on paper, but trust me, when you’re politely pretending not to notice the waterfall-like noise just one metre away, it’s a bloody long time! As he relieved himself, he let out low moaning expressions punctuated every now and then with “Oh yeah, that’s the way.” I suppressed a grin as Glenn and James shook their heads. Upon finishing he exited the bathroom with a smile and a hoist of the pants. At this stage he still had not noticed me at all.

“You know guys, sex is the greatest thing in the world, but by God, a good piss would have to be right up there too.”

As he looked around for our agreement, he finally noticed me. He came over and solemnly shook my hand without any trace of embarrassment. Mike, also on a working holiday, was from Perth and worked as a bartender at the Albert Hall. As my new roommates joked around and we got to know them a little, I felt immensely happy, because I liked all three of them immediately.

After a while, Glenn went back to work and Mike started to get ready for his evening bar shift. I decided to go and do a bit more sightseeing in the city. As I was leaving James informed me that he and a few of the other hostel members would be ‘having a few’ tonight in the hostel’s pub and I was most welcome to join them.

I got the Tube into Leicester Square to have an overpriced dinner, tempered by some rather enjoyable free entertainment from a singing busker. The highlight came when three of the local bums, thoroughly drunk, linked arms and turned out an efficient dance step as the hapless busker sang American Pie.

I arrived back at the hostel at 10pm. I briefly considered going down to the bar to see if my new roomies were there but I was feeling tired, so I decided to just continue on to bed. The room was empty when I arrived. I read a book for a while before gradually falling into a peaceful sleep.

Just like last week in the hostel (with Warwick the Scot), the bed was comfortable and the outside street had little traffic, thus it was very quiet and I fell asleep easily. I was a few hours into my comfortable, peaceful sleep when the door crashed open and the light came on. I heard a low rumble, a cavalcade of footsteps and a champagne bottle popping. I opened my eyes just a crack to see what was happening. I looked out in disbelief at the scene that was before me. Pandemonium had broken loose. Chaos had been unleashed. This just could NOT be happening.

There were scores of people endlessly pouring into the room carrying cases of beer and bottles of wine. Shouting, screaming, singing and laughing filled the room all at once. There was a mob of people jumping all around my room. And situated right in amongst them, singing at the top of their voices, were the recognisable faces of Glenn, James and Mike. The three of them were completely, totally and utterly pissed, and so were their friends. I glanced at my watch. It was 2:11am. No one seemed to notice that I was lying in my bed or that I was wearing my jammies! I silently counted the number of people in the room – 23! There were 23 people in Room 101, the room you couldn’t even swing a cat in. I lay in my bed, surveying the scene with amazement for what seemed an eternity until finally Glenn looked up with bleary eyes and noticed me. I mentally prepared my gracious reply to his forthcoming heartfelt and sincere apology.

“Whatcha having, Dave?”
“Huh?”
“Do you want beer or wine?”

Three beers later I was getting used to the idea of having 23 people in my room at such an ungodly hour and had joined in the celebrations. Almost everyone there was a resident of the hotel and clearly enjoying a working holiday. Aussies and New Zealanders dominated, but a young Danish bloke was unsuccessfully trying to offer each girl a backrub, and three Spanish girls sat on my bed, constantly giggling. I don’t think they even spoke English. However, a particularly loud young chap, Andy, appeared to be the main source of their giggles. This guy, with his sly good looks, was a player if ever I saw one. I quickly became aware that everything he said and every party trick he performed was directed towards my bed. In truth, he was a little annoying because he dominated every conversation in the room with his grating voice and simple, ill-thought opinions.

The celebrations continued for quite a while, but as you might imagine, you can’t have a party in a hotel room at that time of morning without suffering significant repercussions. At the height of our celebrations (of youth, life and freedom, I guess) there was a pounding on the door and a dragon-faced lady stormed in, followed carefully by a dignified looking elderly man.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”

The party chatter died and we leapt up in fright. The Spanish girls started to shake in fear. Dragon-face began to loudly berate us for the noise and our ill consideration, informing us with colourful words that dozens of our neighbours had complained about our party. James whispered to me that she was Cornelia Trednick, the Hotel manager. An image of Basil Fawlty immediately appeared in my head. She was a fearsome sight. Even the old guy accompanying her looked nervous. I later found out that he was actually a local politician who had been the unfortunate recipient of many of the complaints received from our neighbours. He appeared to be wearing a coat over his pyjamas (just like me), and he didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all. In fact, I’d say he was probably pondering a retirement from his career right at that point.

Cornelia could really yell. She didn’t even seem to pause for breath. Her eyes bugged out of her head as she went on and on. But while everyone studied their feet and tried to look small, Andy the player cleared his throat. With a brief sidelong glance at the Spanish girls, he confidently stepped forward and proceeded to explain our case to Cornelia. He was either very brave or just plain stupid. He patiently explained to her that it was in fact considerate of us to be having our party because he had personally invited every single hotel guest to the party earlier on in the bar. Holding his hands up in the air he smiled peacefully and continued.

“I mean, Cornelia, if they didn’t want to come to the party, then that’s their problem, not ours!” Stroking his chin, he looked at her with pointed lips and a pensive expression. “But you do have a point – maybe we should have invited the neighbours too!”

Andy regarded her with a cheeky expression on his face. Someone in the far corner emitted a high pitched titter. Cornelia regarded him back with narrowed eyes for what seemed an eternity. The tension rose to an unbearable point. Andy’s expression turned slightly hesitant. Finally she spoke, her voice starting out as a near whisper.

“Andy, you little turd, you have already been thrown out of this hotel. You have already been banned from entering this hotel. You should not even be in here, so FUCK OFF BEFORE I CALL THE FUCKING POLICE!!!!!”

Andy eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. But no sound came out. He slumped his shoulders in defeat. With an apologetic glance over to the Spanish girls, he silently sped from the room.

Cornelia turned back and quietly said, “And everyone else; go to bed right now.”

Palace Guard

No one needed to be told twice. Everyone fled from the room like scattered mice until only the four roommates remained. Glaring at each of us in turn, Cornelia’s eyes finally settled on Glenn. “See you at work tomorrow, Glenn.” Then she swept from the room with the hapless politician, who had still not uttered a single word, trailing behind. As Glenn gulped, I felt thankful that at least I didn’t have to work for her. James closed the door and suddenly the room was very quiet. For a while, the four of us just stood there amongst the empty bottles and looked at each other, not quite knowing what to say. Mike finally broke the silence. Glancing at his watch, he said, “Well it’s 5am, I’m off to bed. It’s been a long day.”

And with that, he kicked off his shoes and got into his bed. Glenn, James and I began to prepare for sleep as well. It had been a long day, and a very crazy night.

As I headed for the bathroom, Mike suddenly turned over and muttered, “Oh and guys, Andy accidentally knocked our toothbrushes into the toilet bowl earlier, so I wouldn’t advise any of you brushing your teeth tonight.”

As I was falling asleep for the second time that night, I wondered if my new found friends would have anything else to offer by way of laughs and excitement in the coming weeks. But I think I already knew the answer to that.