Pounding headache, craving a pizza, wanna to snuggle up in your bed and shut the curtains – but it’s already 2pm. Why did I drink so much? Why did I do those shots? Where have my pants gone?
Partying is part and parcel of the travel scene, and long may it continue but we pay theprice for that cheap booze with the inevitable hangover. It’s the ying to the partying yang. And bloody hell there’s no worse ying than one in a hostel dorm room.
When I’m hangin all I want is some chilled air-con, some dirty fast food and a movie with my gf/friends, what I certainly don’t want is this:
1) A room full of other people who clearly don’t feel nearly as bad as me. Piss off youngsters, I’m dying here.
2) An ipod blaring Lady Gagy at 1000 decibels, plugged into some shitty speakers making it sound even worse than it already is.
3) Listening to two travelers trying to ‘out cheap’ each other “oh you paid $10 for that bus journey, lol, I only paid $9, but then I’ve traveled so much before, I know where to find the deals”. Shut your face mate, if I hadn’t lost my flipflops last night, I’d be hurling one at your face right now.
Suffering is bad enough, suffering in public is hell. That’s it, I’m literally never drinking again. Or at least until the next promotion night. Oh no, here we go again.