Updated: Jan 8
18 girls 1 attic
Although it sounds like a tag line for a sexy porn, it is not. This unique ratio was what I lived through my first night in London. The appeal: the six-pound price tag.
Walking through the doors, relief flooded over me. I hadn’t slept during my 18 hours of transit. Naturally, after nearly collapsing of exhaustion, I was informed my room was not quite ready at 11 pm. Patience is something I struggle with at the best of times; this was the worst of times. Forty minutes later I had a key in my hand and directions to my room in my head. Evidently, not the best place to keep it. In my lack of sleep state, I recollect only two words: “go up”. In the elevator, I pushed the top floor button- four. I remained stationary, which seemed very out of character for an elevator. No matter, I will hike the mountain of stairs, it’s not like my backpack straps were cutting into me or anything… The moment of reaching the top step of floor three humbled me. I now knew the triumphant feeling of those who climbed the summit of Everest. My recent climbing achievement caused a happy smile to radiate across my face; that was until I realized there were no stairs to the fourth floor. I was in no mood for this Da Vinci Code shit. I descend the stairs losing every sense of victory I had gained. I walked to the front desk. My smile was still visible but it was not portraying joy. More along the lines of: “Here’s Johnny!”.
“I can’t find it” “It is on the fourth floor”
I hardly ever second guess myself but since I was not at my top form I decided to re-check, maybe I just missed the clearly marked door.
My savior came in the form of a foreign boy about to leave his room to take a midnight leak. He was unsure but he thought he had seen a staircase somewhere familiar…
Of course! I forgot to look in the toilet for the stairs. Silly me!
After almost walking into a massive support beam conveniently located right behind the door, I had arrived in my chaotic room. I was overjoyed to be amongst, what seemed to be a travelling circus. Torches shone like massive spotlights, the tents of clothing draped across the support beams, popcorn of toiletries were tossed on the floor and the sound of caged animals bickered over the location of a local pub.
Happiness consumed me. I had noticed the star attraction of the show. My bed, which looked like ones from Hogwarts.
2 hours of sleep 1 wicked bed