Couchsurfing, part 2. (NaBloPoMo Entry #10)

Besides continuing with the Couchsurfing story I started in the last entry, I'll also summarize some of the fabulous times I have had as a Couchsurfing host while living in Bloomington, IN. My roommate Lindsay and I (the same one I went on the road trip with) decided we'd try hosting some people in our little home on Roosevelt St. We got a wide variety of visitors. I'll cover our first experience here, and then continue with the North Carlina story.

Hosting Session 1: Elin and Traveena

The second Elin and Traveena showed up at our door I knew they were going to be up for anything. Traveling without a car, they managed to get a lift to Columbus, IN from another host. From there, they went around with their bags at a gas station until they were able to find a guy willing to let them hitchhike with him to Bloomington. They offered to pay him, but all he ended up asking for were some coins from both of their countries (Sweden and New Zealand).

Wanting to be gracious guests, Elin and Traveena also brought with them a bottle of fruit punch flavored Boone's Farm as a token of appreciation. They had no idea what Boone's Farm was, but decided it looked good, so that's what they got. We loved telling them how overly sweet and cheap the drink was, and of course opened it up and let them try it.

We learned that they'd become friends while working at a summer camp in Texas, and after finishing the summer decided to road trip around the country together. I can't remember where they'd been, but I believe we were their first official Couchsurfing hosts. Before their visit with us, they'd been staying with people they happened to know throughout the different states. By chance, they heard about the website, and jumped on the opportunity to meet some friendly strangers while on their adventure.

They said they were up for doing anything, so Lindsay and I ended up taking them to our favorite local bar, The Bluebird. It was Wednesday, and it was 15 cent pint night, so they were able to get a lot for the little bit of money they had with them. The band playing was called The Pop Tart Monkeys, and as the night went on, we became the most central group of dancers on the floor of the bar. Traveena and Lindsay both developed crushes on different members of the band, and we ended up getting their drumsticks, an autographed drum cover, and bunch of hilarious pictures.

We stopped and got some pizza on the way home, and stayed up late reviewing the pictures we'd taken, laughing about the whole situation. Traveena and Elin had so much fun that they stayed with us another night. A year later, Traveena even came back and stayed with us again, and of course... we relived The Bluebird experience.

***

And now, a continuation of the North Carolina surfing adventure:

(continued from the previous post...)

The next day Lindsay and I explored Asheville—walking around the adorable downtown with its artsy corner shops and street musicians. With no set schedule, we went where our feet took us. The Biltmore Mansion, the most famous tourist draw in Asheville, was too cliché for us, but we did drive by the gate. Excited to see something besides flat landscape, just driving within the smoky mountains was enough to thrill us. We didn’t get back to the house until that evening, after eating at a delicious local Mexican restaurant with extremely spicy food (It was called Salsa’s. I recommend it if you can handle heat. My mouth was burning and I think I chugged my margarita a little too fast).

We were both exhausted and were thinking of crashing early just to get some energy for the following day’s drive to Florida. Lindsay was yawning and curled up on the floor mattress, and I sat at my laptop sending some emails out to friends. Then Cory came in and threw out an idea. “Some of us are heading out tonight to one of the bars. There are a couple other couchsurfers in town that are meeting up there, too. You guys up for it?” I was pretty tired, and I knew Lindsay was, so I started explaining our exhaustion to Cory when Lindsay piped in.

“Yeah, I definitely want to do something, I’m restless. Sure, we’ll go!” After Cory left the room, I looked at her with a sly smile. Just a moment ago she had explained how tired of a state she was in. At the time, I was dating someone back home, but Lindsay was as available as available could be. I think she saw an opportunity open itself up before her. Cory was cute—he was strange, but cute. So, of course, we went.

*****

The sound of muffled bluegrass music seeped into the outside air as we walked towards Jack of the Wood pub. Once inside, the quick-paced fiddling hit my ears with full force. We were in Appalachian country, for sure.

Wooden tables and benches lined up against the far right wall, and a large aged bar acted as the room’s centerpiece. The musicians to our left continued to play and stomp away, while a gathering of ten to fifteen people stood watching, drinking their pints and smiling, the brave ones dancing an attempted jig.

Lindsay and I got our beers, selections from the local Green Man Ales, and sat. I love to people watch when I can, so I didn’t mind spending most of the time as a voyeur to the scene around me, sucking it all up in my senses so I wouldn’t forget it. Lindsay chatted it up with Brandon and Cory, and a couple of other guys eventually joined us—one of them a couchsurfing host, the other a surfer.

As expected when one drinks a few beers on a pretty empty stomach, I became very content with my surroundings and myself over the next hour or so. My senses were bleeding together—the beer, the music, the dark wood, the low lighting—and I found myself in a daze of smiling, so much that my cheeks ached. “Hey, I think there was supposed to be a drag show tonight at another bar. We should go!” Cory said, looking at all of us with anticipation. Brandon, who remained silent, looked hesitant. At some point we must have all decided to go for it, though, because all of a sudden I was in a line with my ID out, waiting to be let in to "Scandals"—self-dubbed “the hippest, most fabulous, exciting, almighty dance club in the history of the world.” For boys.

Unfortunately we’d missed the drag show, but the night was still young and active. The club was dark, but the flashing colored strobe lights reflecting off the aluminum bar and walls gave enough luminosity to keep me from running into anything. I vaguely remember getting a drink from a tight t-shirt at the bar, and then walking over with Lindsay to a stand among the many men among us, again trying to saturate the experience. Brandon got a drink and stood awkwardly off to the side, while his brother Cory took the center floor and began gyrating to the beats, his curls dancing with him in all directions. Eventually, under a bit of persuasion, Lindsay and I finished our drinks and took to the floor as well, making fools of ourselves, but too mentally and physically free to care.

The rest of the night comes in flashes, like a roll of photographs in my memory. Image one: Cory stripping off his white t-shirt and humping the air on the stage of the bar. Image two: Lindsay swaying and giggling outside, swallowed up in Brandon’s giant furry coat creature. Image three: Flying pellets from toy guns in the hippie kitchen. Image four: Hiding from pellet-guns on the floor mattress. Image five: Finally falling asleep as the sun comes up.

To be continued...