I didn’t know how long I was going to stay, and this was a problem considering I had a limited amount of money. Still, the city had been on my list of places to see for a while and I was determined to make the most of my unplanned layover. I was lucky, others were not. I used the charm I had cultivated as an exotic dancer and had arranged a flight back to Boulder the next morning. It helped that I wasn’t an entitled, insufferable asshole.
This one guy was a prime example of the latter.
Man: I need a flight back to Tucson, today. Make it happen.
Flight attendant: We’re sorry sir, but there are no plans out of the area to that location at the moment.
Flight attendant: What do you need Miss?
Me: So I’ve already got a flight back home. Is there any way possible I could also get my taxi and hotel covered?
I got cocky. I bragged about my hidden magic to a fellow traveler before I got my answer. Still, hostels are cheap and no matter what you do you can hear people fucking.
This hostel I hated. It was cramped and small in a way that was not charming. My room was co-ed which meant men and women could bring men and women into the room to share a bed. Above me I heard
And it was over in a way that was not at all cute or charming.
This hostel I really liked. Maybe it’s that people in the South are much nicer than people everywhere else...maybe it’s the air in the cities past the Mason Dixon line. Anyway, for the first four nights all my roommates were guys. They were all pretty cute and the ones from Germany and England wanted to get it.
I let the English one have it, outside of the hostel at around 3:15 am. The owner and his friend came out halfway through and I was so embarrassed. Then we finished in the shed. After it was over, we cuddled in his bunk bed.