Why you Should Always Know Exactly Where You’re Staying When Travelling
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So, you’re getting quite happy at a pub down in Edinburgh, when the club downstairs starts hopping. Downing your whisky sour, you bop your way down the stairs and into the dark, smokey, and dancerific club. You have yourself a real good time and decide to leave. The bloke out front tells you that he will take you home on the cheap in his bicycle rig. Feeling bold from the whisky coursing through your veins at an alarming rate, you and your friend take him up on the offer.
You learn about his girlfriend and how he would love to invite you over for a cuppa, but she would probably be mad. You shrug and giggle, thinking you’d love to head home with this sexy scotsman for a ‘cuppa’. You had told him where you were staying, in a B&B not too far away, but he didn’t seem to know it. You described the park that is across the way, and he nodded, now sure he knew where he was going.
He pedaled, you and your friend laugh, and you wish that your rickshaw ride would never stop. Alas, he pulls up to a dark park, and feeling horrible for letting him bike around with no fucking idea as to where your B&B is on either side, you jump off, promising him that you’ll be fine. His look of concern and clear indication that he’s wrestling with making sure we’re 100% safe and getting the fuck home has you waving his worries off. You’re just on the other side of the park, you see? You and your friend jump off and wave, happy for the ridiculous travel moment.
You walk through the dark park, wondering that maybe you actually made a mistake. It’s 3:00am and spooky as fuck. You don’t really know this neighbourhood, could there be hoodlums? Or the scariest people of all? Youths? You walk a little faster and come to the street across the park. Your B&B doesn’t show up. You walk down the road, thinking ‘yeah, it’s just up there a bit’ and try not to show the worries that are now neck-and-neck with that whisky in your veins.
You walk and walk, and still no B&B. Finally, stressed, scared, and feeling like a damn fool, you and your friend stop under a street lamp. You turn on your blackberry (yes, a blackberry), not caring that it will probably cost you $30 a minute just to look on a map and find your blasted B&B. You find it and follow the directions back. You weren’t that far away, but far enough. The park your new friend dropped you at wasn’t the park you had told him about, but one a few blocks before your accommodations. Funny how parks look the same in an alcohol haze in the middle of the night.
You arrive home, exhausted, relieved, and still a little giddy from the night before. You both collapse on the bed in a fit of giggles, feeling that invincible feeling you only have when you’re 21.
