Vilnius, Lithuania is a totally underrated city. Scenic, cozy, cheap, and with a surprising amoung of vegan options, I really can't say enough about how much I enjoyed my time there. But this post isn't about how awesome Vilnius is, it's a post about...well, you'll see...
It sounded like someone fell from their bunk.
It was around 6am and I was already awake, grazing on social media updates from the comfort of my bottom bunk. What raucous snoring there was – and Lord knows, there was plenty – had died down to little more than sporadic snorts and gurgles, a sign that morning was almost upon my fellow backpackers.
That’s when I heard the thud.
I felt it, too. The wooden floor shook, rattling my creaky, curtained dormitory refuge. Peeking around the damp, neon green travel towel that provided me with privacy, I glanced a pair of tanned feet firmly planted on the floor. I followed them upward, eyes adjusting to take in the hairy legs and checkered boxers that were propped against the three-step ladder.
Nobody had fallen. Someone just didn’t know how to use their tippy toes.
The rest of the dorm’s inhabitants were still fast asleep. There was a ritual pub crawl was the night previous, and most of my roommates had taken part. They kicked the night off with some shots of Lithuanian moonshine – we were in Vilnius, after all – and I’m sure things went downhill from there. Fortunately, I dodged those boozy bullets by staying in and catching up on some work. So much for #yolo.
Within a few seconds of the mini quake I heard the familiar sound of liquid spilling. It was loud, no doubt pouring from the top of the bunk. Maybe an open water bottle, or perhaps the remnants of a spilled beer. After a few seconds, though, it didn’t stop.
It wasn’t, I realized, a spilled container.
It was the guy.
He was pissing. (On someone’s backpack and belongings I later discovered)
For whatever reason, I didn’t lunge into action. From my perspective, it just looked like he was pissing on the floor and I wasn’t keen to interrupt a half-sleeping/half-drunk Indian man’s early morning piss…likely because I would have ended up in the splash zone, myself.
The Spaniard whose bed he was pissing on, however, was not so keen to let things slide (or spray?).
The surprised Spaniard awoke with an understandable, “What the fuck?!” He ripped his blankets off, shouting at the Indian man who still hadn’t really moved or reacted. He just stood there, pissing, oblivious to it all.
Until he got drilled in the face with a solid right hook. Naturally, that woke him the fuck up.
The slap-crunch of fist-to-face, followed by the raised voices, woke the rest of the dorm room up. The Spanish backpacker shoved his urinating foe into the ladder, grabbing him by the scruff of his exposed chest while yelling and cursing in a mix of English and Spanish.
Hands up, spewing apologies, the clueless pisser was just coming around to what was happening. And boy was he embarrassed. He flailed, but didn’t fight back as the Spaniard attacked.
The scuffle didn’t last long.
The rest of us intervened, defusing the piss-soaked situation before things blew up even more. A rambling apology gushed from the Indian as he grabbed a roll of paper and started dabbing up the pool of piss at this feet.
Unsure of sure how to react, we all just sort of waited. After all, it isn’t every day someone pisses on someone else and a fight breaks out.
Using his feet and some one-ply paper towel he lazily mopped up the various puddles, shuffling the papers around his feet until they were saturated. Bits of piss-soaked paper were left around the floor, tiny shreds catching and tearing on the uneven floor boards. I heard an exasperating sigh exhale from the petite Swede who bunked above me, her head collapsing back down to her pillow. Her curtain shot closed once more, cutting her off from the scene. And the scent.
Warm, pissy air wafted through the room. Were this a luxury resort I’d be waking up to the smell of room service, to the stark smell of black tea, the sweet aroma of waffles or pancakes drenched in maple syrup…
But this was no luxury resort.
I fumbled into my flip flops with a chuckle, careful to avoid the remaining puddles, and plodded to the bathroom for my morning piss.
Being extra careful, however, I decided to sit. Nobody likes a pissy floor.
P.S. This all went down at one of the BEST hostels I've stayed at: Jimmy Jumps. Killer staff, cool space, and always full of awesome people. If you're backpacking through, crash at JJ's. Just don't get pissed on.