Pub Crawl in Bath
In which Suz learns a key truth about the traveling community…
“Pub Crawl Tonight to celebrate Bob’s leaving– 6:30”
The sign was tempting to my soaking wet self as I stood at the check in desk of the Bath Backpacker’s Hostel. More than I could say I wanted to go. It was just this type of thing that I was looking for, the camaraderie of fellow travelers and backpackers, hanging out, having a pint. From all the travelogues and books I had read before I left I had imagined how it would be once I got on the road. Meeting tons of people, making friends, laughing, enjoying culture and art and architecture together. Getting the ‘feel’ of traveling.
And yet it wasn’t. I’d been traveling alone during my first 5 days wandering around Great Britain’s rail system. Since I’d been checking into hostels late at night after days of rampant sightseeing I’d not had much of a chance to meet people. The time change had also thrown me off, resulting in a strange Suz that I didn’t know- a person who was up, showered, dressed and checked out by 7am. Frequently I had spent the past 5 days waiting in the mornings for things to open up, something I could never remember doing in my life but which had become quite ordinary to me. Strangely, I found I liked it. Unfortunately my fellow travelers were still snoring when I left the hostel rooms in the mornings.
So I wanted to go on this pub crawl more than anything. But I was scared. Just 20 years old, I had never had alcohol or been into a bar since the official drinking age in the U.S. is 21. Not that that had stopped my comrades in undergraduate, but it had stopped the ever-law abiding me. And I was scared about not fitting in, not being welcome. I imagined that all the people who would go would already know each other, and Bob, who it turned out was one of the hostel workers. I wouldn’t fit in, or be welcome. No, better to be safe. Spend the afternoon and evening exploring by myself.
“Here’s your pass code,” said the nice guy behind the desk, handing me a slip of paper with the door punch code on it. He directed me to the upstairs rooms and the downstairs kitchen and invited me to make myself at home. “You should come to the Pub Crawl Tonight.” He said. I looked at him, had I been that obvious in my yearning looks at the little placard? “I don’t know, I won’t know anyone…” I dissembled. He stuck his hand across the desk and shaking my hand said, “I’m Bob, nice to meet you. There you go, now you know me. And since it’s my party, you should come.”
I did go, and I learned several deep truths about travel that evening. First of all, if you’re introverted at all, find yourself some Kiwis and attach yourself to them – you’ll be guaranteed to have a crazy fun time. Second, and I don’t know why I couldn’t figure out the logic of this beforehand, of course I fit in, no one knew each other already because they were all traveling! Whether you’re in Athens, Kathmandu, San Francisco or Bath, everyone’s a stranger here. And then, over a pint, suddenly not. I know, duh, but somehow it took this chance to teach me how to be more outgoing with my fellow lonely travelers.
