Couchsurfing

Sooo this one time...

I woke up in Peru, not knowing I would be having breakfast with representatives of four continents. People from all over the world, united by the English language and good jam.

Then came last night...

I met a couchsurfer from Plainsboro who asked if I’d be interested in going to a house party in Princeton. In that I never ever took advantage of this during my four years at college, I immediately said yes.

Six. Continents. Talk about a melting pot. We walked in and the hostess hesitated before greeting us, asking “Are you American? European?” making sure she gave us the proper hello (cheek kisses, etc.). The host greeted us with large cologne-scented hugs. He was a recent graduate of Princeton University and it was no wonder he knew so many cool people. His name was Gonzolo. Enough said.

The first people I met were from Colombia and we talked about South America and Shakira. One man, Esteban, was from Switzerland and hated Jews. Then I met a woman who was a Salsa dance instructor from Bolivia - one of the kindest women I have met. She’s one of the reasons all of these people knew each other - her Salsa class. They were fantastic dancers. Then I walked up to a boy expecting him to be American, but when he opened his mouth it was like WHOA NEW ZEALAND. I asked him if he bungee jumps, and he said “yes, I bungee jump to work every day.” I asked him what he’s becoming in Chicago, and he said “a butterfly.” Funny guy...har har...

I mingled with Peace Corps returners, slutty German girls, intelligent Indian men, some guy from Greece - the variety was truly amazing.

Then came Thomas. Sweetheart. A tall boy. Probably 6’3” or 6’4”. He’s from France with a boring intern job, looking for friends. He talked me up for hours, which I thought only as friendly talk of course. We laughed at how bad my French has become and discussed the differences in European/American culture and beer. Then he began the “You’re so beautiful. You’re such an interesting person. I have to see you again,” Frenchman spiel. *Sigh.* We danced a little (awkwardly) and he asked “you want to kiss me?” I replied, “Not tonight.”

I begged my couchsurfer for us to leave (I was his DD). Eventually we started out of the party and I was halted by a very dark man, losing my couchsurfer to another crowd. Dark man said “What’s your name?” “Kathleen.” “What’s your number?” “ummm....Greg? Time to go!?” Dark man tried more, telling me his name was Victor and he’s from Nigeria and would like to babysit me. RUN AWAY!

Lord help us all. I miss Scott.