On edge with anxiety my forehead drips with sweat. What the hell is going on at the end of this hallway? Approaching nearer, it sounds like a 'Rainbow Gathering' chant group, or something to that effect. Fan-freakin-tastic. Five of my hostel bunkies are gypsies.
One guy is sporting a dinky one string instrument that makes a ‘boingie’ noise as he slaps it. I’ll admit, this little Aboriginal Australian melody does have a nice ring to it...
As I adjust my bed, my top bunks-man* (is that how you call it?) introduces himself. “Hey Mae, I’m Fernand,” we exchange names. “I’m in a hurry,” he says, “…on my way out to play open mic night. Do you want to go? I’ll get you in for free.”
One guy is sporting a dinky one string instrument that makes a ‘boingie’ noise as he slaps it. I’ll admit, this little Aboriginal Australian melody does have a nice ring to it...
As I adjust my bed, my top bunks-man* (is that how you call it?) introduces himself. “Hey Mae, I’m Fernand,” we exchange names. “I’m in a hurry,” he says, “…on my way out to play open mic night. Do you want to go? I’ll get you in for free.”