13 October 2008: Budapest, Hungary

After I fled the Hobo Brawl, I walked around for a bit to try to find another metro station. Yet even though they're everywhere in Budapest I couldn't find a single one. Maybe not such a bad thing, all things considered.

So I found a telephone booth. Or, rather, a telephone booth minus the telephone and minus the door-- so, essentially, a three-walled thing. I spent about an hour or so in my booth and may have slept because I was so tired but may have not because it was freezing. I really can't be sure.

The only thing I was sure of was the dirty looks from passers-by as they went by my booth. Now I know how demeaning it feels to be homeless. And when you add this to the terrorist-profiling on the plane, I was really running the gamut of new, minority experiences. Thanks, Europe!

At this first sign of busy life on the streets I left my booth and went to a coffee shop. I found a half-empty cup on one of the tables and sat down in front of it, where I enjoyed a few hours of sleep while "I finished my coffee."

When I went back to Marvin's place Greg had finally returned. Greg, the guy I met in Pécs, who was the only reason I was staying there to begin with. We had a friendly greeting, which I was nervous about since I didn't know if he had really and honestly meant for me to crash at his place. But he was íncredibly nice and seemed genuinely glad that I had found this place even though he wasn't around. Which is all you can ever ask for.

I had bought four rolls for 100ft, and I made myself two paninis-- trying to make another package of meat and cheese last for another day. Then I went with Greg to his university's library for a couple hours to use the free internet.

(By the way, if it seems like there have been a lot of posts recently, it's because I've had a lot of catching up to do. Back when I had been counting on working in the hostel, I had also been counting on 12-hour shifts in which to do all the internet whatevers I needed. So I didn't write any for about a week. Then I went to Pécs, where there was no free internet, and then I had a few day trips, where there was no internet at all. I'm still about a week behind, and though I'm in my new place I feel like I have to keep up with this. Two weeks is more than enough to see a place, so if it seems like I'm inside when I should be outside, I'm OK with that. I'll get around to everything anyway.)

After the library I went back to Marvin's place-- now officially "Greg's place"-- and took a nap for an hour in Greg's bed. Since he, of course, is always the gracious host. And since this was already an exhausted day on account of the phone booth, I wasn't in any rush to make it any more exhausting.

That night I went to karaokoe night at Morrison's with Greg, which he called "an erasmus bar." Erasmus, as I may have already mentioned at one point, is the foreign exchange program for most European universities-- and, as such, "an erasmus" bar is going to full of foreign exchange students. So what does that mean? You guessed it.

I am fully convinced that Morrison's is the most American bar in all of Budapest. At least, all the signs on the wall were in English and all the karaoke songs were American. Every single one.

I felt dumb as hell being there, I really did. That's how obnoxiously American this bar was.

Anyway, as far as the club, it was two rooms: one was a dance floor and one was a bar with karaoke. And the only difference between the two was that one had a karaoke screen. Both were absolutely packed and full of people dancing, and the karaoke music in the karaoke room was the same music heard on the dance floor. I mean, the karaoke room was for all intent and purpose just a glorified dance floor. No one had a mic and there was no stage, it was just people crammed like sardines and dancing and singing. As opposed to the other room, where people were simply crammed like sardines and dancing.

But boy did these erasums kids love their karaoke. No matter the song everyone in the karaoke room would have their eyes glued to the screen to sing, seriously, no matter the song. And the guys would read the words and sing and dance, but what I noticed is that, almost as a rule, girls are just stupid as hell when it comes to karaoke. They just get so stupid and serious about reading the screen and making sure they sing every word correctly-- at the sake of dancing or having fun. It's like they just don't want to miss even a single chance to show off their beautiful, mocking-bird voices. Please. Just smile once in a while.

The biggest hit of the night, though, was "The Final Countdown," for which everyone went bezerk. Of course, everyone also needed to read the screen for the entire song minus "it's the final countdown," and so I was practically a god to these people becuse I knew all the words to this song without even having to look. I was on top of the world.

Now, I met a cute red-headed girl named Juliana pretty early in the night, who was German but who only spoke English to her friends. Of course. We were hitting it off very well, but it was very clearly only along the friendship tip, and so when she left at 1:00 I had a decision to make. On the one hand, I could try to crash at her place, which would probably work but would like mean going home early and going to sleep. Or I could stick around and still probably find a couch and maybe find a little more.

Now, on any day of the week I'm going to choose the second option. But on this particular exception I took the safe route. I mean, for one, I had visions of the homeless guys in my head, and for two, since this was an erasmus bar there weren't any Hungarians at all. And hooking up with an American wasn't exactly going to make or break my time in Budapest.

So I took the safe route and asked Juliana if I could crash at her place. She offered her roommate's bed in a heartbeat, and we walked back. And wouldn't you know, we walked to the very same dorm that I had gone to with Neil and Laura way back during my first stint in Budapest. The very same one. It was fate.

So we went up to her room and I met her other roommate and Juliana gave me some bread and cheese while she went to the bathroom with the roommate. And when Juliana came back I was writing in my notebook, and she flipped out. I mean, flipped the fuck out. She looked at me writing and said "See, see, this is not going to work."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I followed her down to the front desk of the building, where she paid for a room for me to sleep in. I was abnormally confused about what was happening, but when the guy at the desk asked to see my passport I said I didn't have it on me-- a real shocker, I know-- and Juliana audibly gasped.

So I showed him my driver's liscence, which was good enough, and we walked back up towards my new room. And Juliana, who was trying to explain why she had freaked out when she saw me writing in my notebook, said "I mean, you don't even have identification." No, I don't even have my PASSPORT. Because I went to a bar. Scandalous.

Anyway, that was sort of and kind of weird as hell, and I have no idea what on earth triggered her freak out. All I know is that I probably should have stayed at the bar. Oh well, at least I was hobo-free.

And pretty funny that I did in fact end up spending a night at Neil's dorm. Though it wasn't all it was cracked up to be, I may add.