Hotel Sleep Less


The sun was shining so brightly that I instantly felt the urge to jump right into the clear blue ocean. I decided to go to the seaside for a few days and since my budget was pretty low, I wanted to stay in a youth hostel. I found one student accommodation that had spare rooms during the summer holidays. My excitement was at its peak, despite of dragging my luggage quite far from the bus station to the dormitory. It was the start of the worst holiday I have ever been on.

It became clear to me that there will be no rest for me on the first night of my stay in the building. What happened was really weird. I went to bed and heard the woman next door talking out loud how rich one guy is. She mentioned his surname, which sounded just like the name of my sympathy from high school days. Suddenly, I heard something very similar to hanky panky. Or there was just an ice cream eating contest. On top of that, people were constantly walking in the hallway and entering the room, which was located somewhere near mine. Loud music was coming from the area, so I had to kiss my good night’s sleep goodbye. Too bad that the rooms were not soundproof.

If I recall correctly, I slept just a few hours in the early morning. I was hoping for some peace, while I was eating breakfast on the balcony. But suddenly the man, sitting on the closest balcony, started to cough like crazy. For such a long time, that the first thought that came to my mind was that he was going to suffocate.

The constant noise was too much for little ol’ me, burning with desire to reduce the parasitic stress. I went to the beach for a relaxing swim just a few minutes after the coughing episode. There was finally a tiny opportunity waiting for me, to have some rest. The happening in the hostel was also very odd even in the afternoon hours. I was just a second away from getting seriously scared. A man or an old woman, I couldn’t tell the gender by the sound of his or her voice, started to scream. The person was repeating the so‑called word cu for several minutes, like some kind of an animal, a cuckoo. I started to wonder where am I, in the youth hostel or in the nut house. Maybe the person producing those voices every afternoon was really mentally ill.

The next day was a bit educating, since I saw the word weed written on the car license plate, parked in the driveway. The possession of the mentioned plant could explain the strange behavior of the guests. But as a former tourism worker, I knew that even stranger things can occur.

A hotel is supposed to be guest’s second home. Therefore certain rules must be obeyed. Otherwise there could be a circus show in every hotel room in the world, the greatest story treasury.



M Nograsek

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