Also known as “When Travelling By Yourself Stops Being Fun”, or “Why I Haven’t Written Recently”:
a) Start chatting with a fellow Australian during the hostel’s TV Comedy Night (let’s all wish him a happy birthday for today, okay? Happy Birthday!). As a bonus, this way you get to have someone to laugh with during the funny shows (South Park, Jon Stewart), and someone with whom to ignore the bad shows (My Secret Girlfriend, I believe it was called).
b) Get quite sick after midnight one night and make a friend through being led into a room to lie down by hostel staff. Sure, this friendship may be built on one person asking the other how many times she’s thrown up that night, but it also involves help making a hot drink and some chatting about France, so it’s quite valid, I believe.
Anyhow, at least this meant I got to sleep in a bottom bunk last night, although I’m back in the top one now. I was considering trying to get tickets to Letterman today, as the Australian birthday boy managed to do a few days ago, but I’m thinking today might be better as a quiet one. Fie on you, body, New York is not the place for quiet days! There’s an off-Broadway production of Our Town on downtown though, so I might take a chance on rush tickets for that. We shall see.
As an aside, I’m heading off to Savannah on Tuesday for the week. There are no hostels there so I’ll be staying at a hotel (that one’s for you, H.OtherMe), and to make up for the higher cost am going to be getting overnight trains either way to cut out the cost of two nights’ accomodation. Sure, 16 hours in a train isn’t my perfect idea of fun, but then again, neither was last night, and I seem to have got through the worst of that okay (fingers crossed! Please, cross your fingers).
Sadly, I had some very yummy eats yesterday, but am now too scared to have any of them again in case they were the cause. Fie again, body. Fie.