Hostel Fuckers

Part One
A light rain falls at a slant upon southern Glasgow, Scotland, in this early morning hour. On the edge of the south side is an old Hostel for those who’ll be staying for longer periods of time. As the rain begins to lighten, a cab slowly pulls in. The spidery branches of leafless trees creak with the cool moist breeze. Robert McLeod—an 18 year old high school graduate—climbs from the car and sluggishly makes his way inside.
Sloppily, he slicks back his black shoulder length hair. The rectangular lenses of his black wire framed glasses are speckled with rain water and the black cloth hood of his black leather jacket is sopping wet. The bottoms of his baggy black pants soaking wet from the cold puddles out in front of the two story hostel; swiftly he heads to the front counter where he makes sure to grab the key to his room—room #7.
With a chuckle, he heads to his room.
“Well, well, lucky number seven, eh?” he laughs.
My name is Robert McLeod—I’ve come to Glasgow so I can go to college. Originally I’m from U.S. but my being of Scottish decent drove me to come to Glasgow. I’ve always wanted to live here before I had even seen its beauty in person. When I came here a couple years ago, I decided I’d move from the U.S. to live in Scotland. I don’t really think I’m doing it as an act of homage to my ancestors but simply out of admiration for such a gorgeous land.
Another reason I came here was to stay in a mixed hostel where I could maybe find some interesting people, more or less a female. I have never been so good with women and still I’m a virgin. Girls never really liked me I guess because I am so thin and pale. I didn’t grow any facial hair for quite a while—many of the other males in my classes already had 5 o’clock shadows. Thus I wasn’t attractive to those girls who were looking for an older guy or those who wanted a very masculine boy friend.
I think me being an American could both hurt me and help me. I imagine the scene in Sid and Nancy where Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten are in the living room and interrupted by Nancy, “You fucking Americans, none of your free hippy love shit here!” of course we are no longer in the 70’s but hey, I’ve never lived with a foreigner so how would I know what their reaction would be?
They could also be interested in me because I am from a different country. France isn’t so far off—maybe I’d be sharing a room with some horny French chicks—that’d be nice if the roomers of horrible yellowed teeth and hairy armpits aren’t true?
Well whatever, but after all, Sid and Nancy is about the most unrealistic movie to be supposedly based on a true story. Sure “Sid Vicious” was in “the Sex Pistols” but, besides that, a very scant portion of the story is true. Like when the band went on that talk show and started cursing, saying stuff they weren’t allowed to say on TV; they depict Sid as a band member, he wasn’t even the bass player then, how can you get something so matter of fact so incorrect?! Plus the makers didn’t even get their info from a member of the Sex Pistols; they got it from fuckin’ Joe Strummer from “the Clash,” what the fuck would he know about the Sex Pistols? Obviously not enough to have made an accurate story about them, nonetheless, it is a good movie, majority true or false.

Once Rob gets to his room, he finds the door is locked. Staring down at the door knob, he sees someone has hung a “do not disturb” sign from the knob.
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘do not disturb?’ It’s a hostel how the hell do you have a do not disturb sign? Well, whoever is in here is out of luck, I paid good goddamn money and I’m comin’ in!” he bellows knowing that he’s going to have a problem with his roommates.
Slipping the key into the slot, he opens the door, dropping his backpack at the door he stares up to have a book thrown in his face. Stumbling back as the book meets his face he falls to the ground. Struggling to his feet he seems a bit disoriented.