22 July 2006

3 miss world

i love my street. i hate the international hostel.

in theory, it's very exotic and jet setty and all that jazz. in reality, it's annoying as all get out. i now routinely cross the street to avoid it.

the international hostel is like little europe. and i do like europe. i dance to gogol bordello and went to italy and shopped in kiev and learned latin. i just didn't quite expect to find little europe in the middle of lincoln park.

it's all because of the bleachers. there's a drop between the hostel's yard and the sidewalk that acts as an instant viewing stand. from this vantage point, there are always at least three people, usually men, sitting and smoking and playing checkers. as if the bleachers weren't enough, occasionally three or four chairs materialize as well. so there are sometimes upwards of 15 seated people taking in the view (a tally that doesn't include those milling in doorways and leaning out windows).

having never participated in a beauty pageant, i can only surmise that it must feel something like walking past the hostel at 6 PM on a saturday afternoon. there are shouts of american baby! ummm! hot american stuff! aha! american baby! oooooh! hot american gul! you! hot american gul!

the first time i walked past was a bad hair day so this was midly flattering. after that, not so much. now i'm always armed: sunglasses on, upod cranked up, speedwalking and staring straight ahead.

although they're often wearing wife-beaters from the old world, there are quite frequently some rather attractive people at the hostel. it's a pity the only words they learned in english class were hot, american, baby, girl, stuff. because that makes for one really gross sentance.

3 comments:

Les Savy Ferd said...

I am very familiar with the bleachers phenomenom as the street you currently live on was a perfect short-cut from my old apartment to the red-line train stop on Fullerton. Thankfully the phenomenom in question disappears completely in the winter months. Unfortunately most everything in chciago seems to disappear with it. And while I may never know what its like to be cat-called as a 'hot american ghoul' I do think that if someone is going to go to the trouble to cross the second largest of the world's oceans and then travel halfway across our mighty land that there might be a few more interesting things to do than loiter outside a hostel, albeit a rather nice one.

Clark "not so effen hardcore" Price said...

Are you telling me that cat-calls don't work? Oh my, I feel as if my life is collapsing around me. No "Pssst!" "Lemme talk to you!" "Hey girl you lesbian or something? Cause you are if you don't talk to me."

Maybe I should go up to ladies that I find attractive and just grab their forehead, and push them backward. Following it with a resounding "Sup!!!?"

Let me know if I am doing any of this wrong. It seems fool-proof to me.

oline said...

come to think of it i am quite the "american ghoul."

and "sup" is never good.