The first time I ever stayed at a hostel, a British guy took a pee on a girl from France. I was doing a Workaway there in a tiny fishing town called Mompiche on Ecuador’s coast. Since it was my first night, I was on a mission to make friends. I sat at the hostel’s outside bar sipping out of a dollar fifty beer so big I had to use two hands to lift it—Ecuador knows how to party. I turned away from the bartender to see a boisterous group of three kids walk in. They appeared to be nineteen at most and stuck out like a sore thumb with their bleach-blond hair, and well-accessorized outfits. They joined me at the bar after checking into the hostel. They were my new roommates, and although a little young, I figured my best bet at friends. 

The three of them were from Britain and traveling in their gap year—a practice I strongly believe we should encourage in the United States.

They drank the way you would expect only recent high school graduates can drink. They were sloppy. Before long, one of the boys with a modern-day mullet had disappeared. We found him on top of the hostel’s second-story bungalow, marching on the sloping tin roof. The owner of the hostel (my boss) came out to see what was causing such ruckus. She was appalled to see a boy yelling from the roof of her hostel. After escorting him down, my boss took me aside and asked my opinion on whether we should kick them out. I assured her I thought it would be okay if they stayed. She agreed—mostly because it was midnight and where else would they go? Spoiler alert: her kindness backfired.

We all lied down in our bunkbeds: me, the three kids from Britain, and a woman my age from France.

I hadn’t had much interaction with the girl from France until 2 am when I heard the sound of a babbling brook followed by her shrieks. Someone flicked on the lights revealing the horror of a disoriented, drunk boy peeing on her bed. In his defense, it wasn’t a malicious act, he had just gotten lost on the way to the bathroom. After a steady rant of what I can only assume was swearing in French, the woman moved to the top bunk, and we all slept the horror off. Upon hearing about the night’s mishaps, my boss kicked the British kids out for good and took the perpetrator to buy her a new mattress. Leave it to me to pick the guy that sleep pees to be my friend.