As we journeyed via ferry from Vis to Hvar Island, I had one
thought on my mind.
And it was just this: “They better let me drive a boat.”
After the ATV debacle with the Witchlady of Komiza, I was worried that my
birthday wish of captaining a boat on the Adriatic Sea would be crushed. Should they be letting me captain a boat on
the Adriatic Sea? Probably not. But that was besides the point.
We arrived at the bustling port of Hvar quite sweaty per
usual. I took comfort, however, in knowing that the hostel I had booked was
close walking distance to the harbor.
Seemed promising. The only catch was that out of our three nights at the
hostel, we’d be spending exactly one night in a co-ed dorm room. In bunk beds.
And that night was tonight.
KJ and I hadn’t done that since college, and we prayed it was going to be nothing like college at all.
KJ and I hadn’t done that since college, and we prayed it was going to be nothing like college at all.
A not so quick jaunt up 2983749283 stairs thanks to Lil’
Bea, we were greeted by a locked door and a sign that said “back in 10 min.” KJ
and I continued to roast in a stew of our own sweat when the door finally
opened. The owner showed us to our humble abode for the evening. All six cozy
bunk beds of it.
KJ and I would be bunking with strangers, literally. Each
random bunk was already claimed leaving one top and one bottom open on totally
separate bunks. As we surveyed the small space, two spry young twelve year old
girls entered the room, squealing in excitement over our slumber party.
Just
kidding.
Two full of pep young college girls, who were some of our bunkmates, entered the room. After introductions were made, they regaled us with horror
stories of the previous night. Tales that involved loads of snoring and sex.
Oh goody.
“It really wasn’t very economical, the couple that stayed in
here last night booked two beds, but they only used one. They came back to the
room at 5am drunk, and had sex. It was awful.” The one extra chipper girl
explained, so that I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or invigorated by overhearing the
early morning drunk bunk sex episode.
“Oh god.” KJ and I exchanged horrified glances. We were too
old for this. A mere day away from my 33rd birthday and this was a
prime example my age. We just had to get
through one night of co-ed Croatian college and tomorrow we would be in our own
dorm room.
“That couple left earlier today though, and two British guys
arrived. They seem pretty nice.”
Phew.
I hoped this meant we dodged a bullet.
KJ and I were famished from our island traversing,
naturally. So we set out in Hvar town to forage for food. We found our way to a
little back street where I was lured by loud rap music blasting amongst people
eating meat in the streets…and I knew we had to eat there.
50 Hvar was a burger and champagne spot, and I was more than ready
for some meat. We ordered and took residence on the street on a bench. Then I
proceeded to house my. entire. burger. It was nothing short of amazing.
 |
| MAKE TIME. |
And then it happened. The meat I had not so delicately plowed through fifteen minutes prior was revolting. The meat wanted out and I was wearing a romper. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
“I need a bathroom immediately.” I urgently whispered to KJ.
The panic in my voice was evident. We had walked a little
too far and there wasn’t anything around except a playground and that just
wasn’t going to cut it.
“There up there!” KJ pointed ahead to a beacon of light in
the form of a sports pub, if I could make it. The meat was angry and making
itself known in an a particularly unpleasant way.
“It hurts!” I all but ran towards the light.
I finally made it to the bathroom and after a moment
realized I wasn’t alone. It was good to know that I wasn’t the only one having
the revolting meat issue.
“I best cool it til tomorrow” I told KJ as we headed back
to the bunks. It was going to be a big day, birthday style. I had little faith that we’d get
some sleep.
Back at the dorm, we settled in for the night and sincerely hoped for
the best. Around 4am the Brits stumbled in, clearly attempting to be quiet, but
failing epically.
“WHATS THE WIFI PASSWORD” top bunk Brit stage whispered.
“I DON’T KNOW MAN.” Bottom bunk Brit yell whispered in
response.
Silence.
“BUT WHATS THE WIFI PASSWORD?” top bunk Brit inquired for a
second time in the loudest whisper that ever was.
A loud snore erupted from the bottom bunk in response.
“DUDE WHATS THE WIFI--?”
“It’s foufou321“ came from the bunk above me in a chippity
chipper voice.
“THANK YOU.” Top bunk brit whispered extremely loudly. And with that he fell promptly asleep. Or
passed out. Either way.
We awoke in the morning by way of gas. Bottom bunk Brit
efficiently let an abrupt, loud fart loose in his sleep, and that’s when I gave
up trying to sleep.
Besides, we had things to do. Rooms to switch, a birthday to
celebrate, and a boat to see about captaining. The question was, would they let
me captain a boat? And almost as important; where could I get a captain’s hat?
**If you want to make time for meat: http://www.50hvar.com/
**If you want to make time for meat: http://www.50hvar.com/