The One in the Hostel

Every now and then throughout my travels, I’m blessed with the occasional visit from old friends.

In June of 2014, a friend was making a pit stop through Tokyo, so I made my way over for a few days and we found a hostel to stay at.

Up until this storied night in my travels, I had but only pleasant experiences in shared hostel rooms.

The scene: 3 a.m, a dark hostel room full of strangers, me in a bottom bunk and my friend in the one above me.

All fast asleep, or as much as one can be in a 12-person hostel room.

Still in slumber, I hear shuffling in the room.

Typical for a hostel room, so it barely registers in my brain.

I begin to hear rustling through luggage on the other side of the room.

Now 5% conscious of the background noise, I quickly remember where my bag is, which is nowhere near the sound, so my brain checks out and I pass out again.

Some time passes— or none at all (who knows, I was asleep)— and I hear the sound of urinating, which I assume came from the in-room restroom.

Again, background noise.

Suddenly I’m jolted awake by something crawling into my bed and ferociously clawing at my legs.

Pissed off now that I was definitely 100% awake and completely terrified that something horrible was happening, I began kicking and throwing punches with all the life in me.

After catching my breath, I heard a very confused voice whine in what I’ve come to recognize as the sound of a trashed American tourist.

Realizing this wasn’t a dream and I probably just bruised this drunk girl in several places, I panicked and wondered what to do as she struggled to stand up, still wasted and unaware of what was happening.

So I proceeded to talk to her like a dog.

Again, I panicked.

“Wrong bed. WRONG. BED. Your bed is over there,” I said, physically turning her drunk ass around toward the empty bunk across from me.

She didn’t move. 

“GO!” I yelled while pushing her toward the bed.

Like a robot, she followed the command and got to her bed only to turn around and stare back at me for further directions. 

“Get in there!” I said in bewilderment.

She immediately crawled into her bunk and let out a puppy-like whimper.

Out of my peripheral vision, I could now see all the other guests poking their heads out from their bunks like owls in the night, just watching this garbage night unfold. 

“Go to sleep,” I wearily harked at the girl.

As I slowly laid back down into bed, drunk American and I had a stare-off, me making sure she stayed in her bed and her empty, glazed eyes looking back at me until her head reached the pillow.

I didn’t sleep much the rest of the night, and not wanting to be in the room with this girl when she woke up, I got up as soon as the sun rose.

As I was getting ready for the day I overheard two other girls in the room packing their things and one said all her things were wet. 

Remembering what happened before the kicking and yelling, I just cringed, and not having the heart to tell those poor girls what happened to their stuff, I slowly and quietly exited the room of hostel nightmares.