Just a few things:
Firstly, work has been crazy. It's February, which means the Inca Trail is closed, which means we're at less than half capacity, which should mean the bar is more quiet, but the crazies just do not stop coming. Did I mention the guy who claimed he was a French marshal a couple of weeks ago? Who carried a knife and said he had a license to kill and was in town to do a murder? Yep.
Jeremie got crazy drunk on Saturday. We put him to bed in the middle of the afternoon, and when he woke up, he started spouting nonsense. He told me he'd managed to get with a girl that morning, and he'd drank every drink in the bar, and some other hilarious stuff. I asked him who the girl was and he lowered his voice. "Come get in this bed next to me and I will tell you," he said. I suddenly remembered something that I needed to do right at that second.
Later, when it was determined that I would have to work his shift that night at seven, I woke him up and had my camera ready, on video mode. "Jeremie," I began, "how did you come to be like this?" He listed the various alcohols he had imbibed that day in an even more ridiculous Quebecois accent. The alcohols he listed were all the ones we serve. "Jeremie," I asked him next, "is it true that you can't go back to Zazu's after what you did?" (Zazu's is a local club that the Loki staff frequent, and supposedly the girl that Jeremie got with was the daughter of the owner.) "Oh," Jeremie reassured me, "I can ALWAYS go back to Zazu's."
(This last part is probably true. Jeremie has served behind the bar, had his face set on fire, and slept on the couches at Zazu's.)
Then Jeremie realized I had the camera in my hand. He got out of bed, lunged at me and then staggered towards the door instead. After calling me a few choice words, he headed back to the bar.
Of course, he would be the one assigned to mix me a free shot at midnight on my birthday. I guess it's really my fault that he chose the Stop and Go, which is a splash of grenadine in a tall shot glass, followed by sambuca mixed with creme de menthe. Grenadine+anise+mint. If you can't imagine that, then good for you. I wouldn't wish the Stop and Go on my worst enemy, but I really had to take it to keep my pride.
What else. . . oh, no big deal, but the stars aligned to give me the worst birthday in recent memory. As if the Stop and Go weren't bad enough, I broke my camera on Sunday night while trying to throw a straw at Jeremie. Then I had a migraine and spent most of the day in bed, trying to muster the strength to go out (didn't happen). On top of that, my University of Kansas Jayhawks earned the number one ranking in the polls, just to lose to the WILDCATS of Kansas State. What a day.
On the upside, I have visited my friend the camera repairman, and he says he can have it fixed by tomorrow morning for 50 soles. Also on the upside, we've decided that we're going out tonight, since as we all know, you only turn 23 twice. On a further upside, one of our new coworkers had a little too much to drink this afternoon and gave us all psychic readings. And he was freakishly accurate. Best line of the day (after we cut him off): "How many dead people do I have to contact to get a drink in here?"
Last story: one of the guys who was staying here hooked up with a girl who works in reception. He then failed to talk to her again or give any acknowledgement of her existence. When he checked out today, he found that he had been charged for a THOUSAND shepherd's pies from the kitchen and 50 BLAT sandwiches, among other items. That's why you don't mess with hostel staff. If we can't get you kicked out, we will do everything in our power to make you miserable, and our coworkers will help us to do that.
Just a heads up.
