Three crazy English guys in London, England – Final European tour part V

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I sleep like the dead. Once I’m out, very few things can wake me up. This has proved particularly helpful for staying in hostels, where people are not always very polite at night.

When I woke up the next morning in Bath, three English guys (Londoners) were talking to some of the other girls in my room. Apparently, things had gotten interesting the night before, and I slept through it all. The guys said that first, there was a massive fight that broke out in the hostel, complete with screaming and yelling. Then when the guys came in later that night, they were very drunk. One of them walked over to the top bunk of the bunk beds I was sleeping in (I was on the bottom), and while staring at the girl on top, shook the bed frame.

Why? Nobody knows, but it’s hilarious. Especially because the shaking didn’t wake me up at all.

Then I think another one of the guys ended up falling out of his bed, or something similarly interesting.

One of the guys was telling an American girl that he went to South Carolina. He said that they drove for forty miles to go get ice cream. The girl replied, “Forty miles?! You probably passed five ice cream stores!” He said, “Yeah, but it was really good ice cream. I think it was called Dairy Queen.”

I died.

For those of you who don’t know, Dairy Queen is the McDonald’s of the ice cream world. There are a ton of them all over the US, so to drive forty miles to go to one is just ridiculous. I thought he was going to say that they went for homechurned ice cream or something, but nope. Dairy Queen.

That made my entire day right there.

Later in the morning, I took the train to London. I sat in Hyde Park and read my book for a while, and I also wandered around a bit looking for a grocery store. I also happened to meet a nice English guy staying in my hostel room (seriously, what is it with meeting all these English guys in English hostels?! did not happen the last time I was in England), who was from the north of England but in London for training for volunteering at the Olympics.

The next morning I did a bit of meandering around London. I went back to Tower Bridge, which was festively decorated with the Olympic rings, and I went to 221B Baker Street, which is where Sherlock Holmes lived.

I headed to bed quite early because, once again, the following morning I was flying Ryan Air. I had to get up at 2 AM this time in order to make my flight, so I wanted to get some sleep beforehand. Unfortunately, the people in my hostel room decided to be very loud that night. I was only asleep for 20 minutes or so before I was woken up by some more English people (SERIOUSLY SOMEBODY EXPLAIN). They left, and then some very loud Italians came in the room and stayed there forever. They left after an agonizingly long time, but then more people came and… yeah. Suffice it to say that I did not get much sleep that night, and I was exhausted once again.

Time to find another Starbucks?

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