duck-shaped pain

Last year, I was in a three-person room, this year, my room had four beds total. I got a top bunk. This was not very pleasing. The rungs on the bed's ladder were thin and hard to stand on, and I ended up having to wear my shoes to get into bed. But overall, the room I had this year was nicer than the one I had last year. It was a corner room, so we had two enormous windows to look out. We were up high enough that it would be hard for casual passersby to see in at all, so I favored keeping the blinds up so that we could see out. This didn't last long, as later roommates not only lowered the blinds, but turned the slats so that it was dark dark dark inside.

From my top bunk, I could see, blinds permitting:

A sign that read "TOYOTA RENTALS (ONLY) - $24.99" For real connoisseurs of rental cars.

A parking garage, filled with assorted cars. Each night that I was there, the same truck parked in the same place, right in my field of view. I remember this because it had the words "Do Not Confuse Conformity With PATRIOTISM!" painted on its tailgate.

An empty can of San Pellegrino Aranciata, on the windowsill. This can made quite the journey over a span of a few days. Some unknown person drank it, left the can on the chair by the window. Someone else threw it away. It was then fetched from the trash and placed back on the chair. [1] When I woke up the next morning, it was on the shelf under the bathroom mirror. I stared at it while I brushed my teeth, but left it alone. I came back later in the afternoon and it was in the middle of the floor. Then it went away entirely, perhaps to another room.

Roommate 1 was A., a silent Chilean girl. She changed pants about five times a day. It was always the same type of pants, these jeans that were skin tight through the waist, ass and legs, and then flared out dramatically, like majestic wings attached to her calves, flying away. I know that this is not an unusual style of pants, but her devotion to that particular look was remarkable. She had about nine pairs of these pants, all in different colors, and also brought various sleeveless down zip vets to match them. She had an enormous suitcase, although there would be bigger ones.

I could never tell if Roommate 1 wanted me to talk to her or not. I would say something to her, and she would just stare at me as if I had five noses. Then, when I didn't say anything, she would stare at me more. Her English was limited, but was still better than my Spanish. I spoke some Spanish to her, and she just seemed mad. "I am practicing English!" she would say, and then stomp off to change pants again. It's probably for the better, since my Spanish right now is limited to several useless areas of conversation. No, no me gusta los cuadernos. Para estudiar, necesito comprar un cuadernos. [2] I'm sure she didn't travel thousands of miles to talk about notebooks.

Roommates 2 and 3 were Japanese women. I thought they came together, since they checked in at the same time, talked to each other a lot, and were from the same town. But this was an incorrect assumption. Roommate 2 was the one that talked. Her name was J., and she was a college student. An older one, older than me, which she said was very unusual in Japan. "I worked at a job for ten years, and then I go back to school, and everyone is 18!" I told her that I went to a school where a lot of the students were older than me, and she was envious. I enjoyed talking to her. Roommate 3, A., slept for two days and then checked out. Both of them had enormous amounts of luggage.

Roommate 4 was another Japanese woman who checked in after Roommate 1 finally left. She, too, had a lot of things. A lot of the things she brought were stuffed animals, which she made a fort out of on the bottom bunk. I would have to gingerly descend down the ladder to as to not disturb the intricate arrangement of fuzzy bears I found at my feet. I don't know anything else about her.

Roommate 5, the last one, I know nothing about. I awoke on the day that I was due to check out to find someone else snoozing away in the bunk that Roommate 3 had occupied. The only way that I could tell the difference was that the lump beneath the sheets was larger, and that there was a new suitcase in the room. This was the biggest suitcase I have ever seen -- it was easily five feet tall and four feet wide, with big wheels. How it got on a plane, I'll never know.

The large amounts of luggage were amazing. People, people, this is not the third world! You can buy soap here! The room was equipped with little lockers that we could use to safely store our things in. I'm the only one who used one, since I'm the only one whose stuff fit into the locker.

More to come�

[1] It had a dent in it, which is how it was identified as being the same can.

[2] No, I do not like notebooks. But to study, I need to buy a notebook.

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