Hostel Life

I can take absolutely no credit for the following poem. I once read it in the book Kiwi Tracks and it has been with me ever since. Cathy does an excellent job of summarising the best and worst parts of staying in a hostel in a humorous way. I am sure some of you travellers out there will be able to associate with this poem in the same way I did.

Well, I have roamed the world, over many a day,
And a hostel’s the place I generally stay
Now there’s some things about them that’s always the same,
It’s a world-wide conspiracy, that’s what I claim.
‘Cause there’s always one who stays out till three,
Then turns on the lights ‘cause he cannot see.
He smells like a pub, and he’s usually drunk,
And he steps on your arm when he climbs in his bunk.
And there’s the one who leaves pots in the sink,
And when they run out, it’s your milk they drink.
They sprawl on the sofas so there’s nowhere to sit.
Consideration? Hell, they don’t give a … !
And the worst of all, they’re really a drag,
Keep every item in a different plastic bag.
Now I’ve spoken with the others, and they all feel the same,
We’re all considerate and we are not to blame.
So who is this group which disrupts hostel life?
Who stirs us from dreams and causes such strife?
Now I’m not paranoid, but it’s a thought that I’ve had,
They’re all on the payroll of our mums and dads.
They follow is around wherever we roam,
Making life miserable so we all go home,
But the last laugh’s on our  loved ones,
And that is for sure,
Because as for the travel bug,
There is no real cure.
They can torment us and tease us,
But when all’s said and done,
In spite of it all, we’re still having fun