7 Reasons Why I Hate Staying In Hostels As A Curmudgeon And A Runner.
Just as a word of warning, I wrote most of this post last night in my hostel dormitory bed infuriated after being locked out of my room and wanting vengeance.
The truth about staying in a hostel at the moment is that it’s not too bad. You can shower when you want. You can leave when you want. The staff and the people are quite friendly.
It’s OK. Apart from at night time when it completely fucking sucks. Before I get on to writing about how much I fucking hate hostels, I want to tell you about today’s half marathon.
A half marathon today.
I went out at 2pm and recorded a 13.5 mile run in 2:11. It was a lovely run. Perfect weather, scenery and conditions.
The first bit was shit again. Londoners don’t give a fuck that you’re running behind them. I mean they’ll look at you, but they usually won’t move over or even acknowledge your existence beyond a blank stare.
I’ve become a very angry jogger whilst running over here, mainly because it can be so fucking dangerous with traffic and no one gives a fuck.
I lost my mind at the very end of a run and just started cunting my fingers at a red bus that honked at me as I crossed the road.
The important thing is that the run is good. Now onto my post about bitching about hostels.
Here are the reasons I hate staying in a hostel.
- I sometimes enjoy meeting other people – But in the right fucking setting. Not when they are stumbling in giggling at 2am like cunts. The quieter they try to be, the louder they end up being. I can’t make friends when I’m on the defensive. If you’ve ever seen me coming back from the shower in my undies then I won’t be able to look you in the face again.
- I’ve started drinking in the evenings so that I can sleep at night in the hostel – This makes running in the morning much trickier too. I delay the run until after lunch. I still go out but it seems like I’m slower because of my evening pints. Running with drink in your stomach makes your bowels squelch which is always dangerous.
- People from other countries tend to have different requirements when it comes to personal space – Since I’m from the UK I need at least a 10×10 foot square space to work from with a clear head. If I’m hungover, then that space requirement doubles. If you’re shouting in my ear in a foreign tongue then I will need to get the fuck out as soon as possible. I won’t want to say hello or ask you why you’re so cultured.
- My Garmin Forerunner is out of power all the time – 8 people in one dorm all fighting to keep their little bleeping things bleeping. Who will win? Not the Angry cunt on top bunk. He’s too scared of jumping down and tipping the entire fucking bed frame over with his weight.
- I have to shower before and after every run and this takes a lot of time when I’m cramping up – As much contempt as I might have for my fellow roommates I don’t want to subject them to my fragrant sack after a hilly 10 miler (although if they are noisy tonight then I will make good use of that spoiled vegetable Samosa I ate earlier and fart until at least 4 of us are dead).
- Steps, steps everywhere – After completing my half marathon run on Sunday around Greenwich, I went back to my dorm to get changed and tripped down 2 stairs. It’s difficult enough climbing stairs when you’ve been on a long run but the steps are everywhere here and in the weirdest places.
- There is no en-suite bathroom in this hostel –Last night I urgently needed a piss, so rushed out into the one down the corridor. I forgot my room key so I couldn’t get back into my room. This was at 2:35am. I headed down to 24 hour reception and all of the staff were outside drinking like fucking hippy cunts. What made it worse was that I got into bed a little drunk last night and was dressed in a shirt and tie with no trousers on. Not my best ever look. And that’s what I was sporting as I was locked out in between the hostel entrance and 24 hour reception. Anyway, Cunt A had a pass around his neck so he looked like he was in charge. He started with a flippant “‘sup dude?”. I let my eyes say “I want to invent a time machine so that I can kill not just your parents but every single motherfucker who has ever shared an ancestor with you going back 20,000 years. But before I invent that technology, could you please let me into my fucking room? Thanks.”
This post was entirely mean spirited and unnecessary but I thought it was important to get it off my chest.
Thanks for reading.