We'll start from the beginning.
So I arrived to Brighton during the midst of an absolute torrential down pour. My 70 pound suitcase dragging behind me, I didn't think I was going to physically make it to my place without drowning or losing some sort of something to the storm. After a train ride, 2 cabs, and quite a long walk, I finally rolled up to 13 Victoria Road. Now from the outside, my home is a 3 story beautiful old white building with a red door amidst a row of similarly beautiful white buildings in a quaint residential neighborhood atop a hill that overlooks the entire city and ocean. Amazing right? Wait till I turned the key...
As I stumbled inside with all my SHIT, completely unaware of what I was going to find, I immediately breathed in and inhaled what seemed like at least 3 rips from a fatty bong. As I coughed at the potent smell of ganja that wafted throughout the walls, I was met by a half asleep British boy who stumbled out of his room, unable to see me through his stoned, half-closed, red and puffy eyes.
"Sorry if I woke you!" I exclaimed.
"Oh noh 'ts alright, I just been havin a bit of trouble gittin owt of bed this mournin..." he responded.
It was 2 pm.
Well if that wasn't a fitting welcome I don't know what is! After stoner boy managed to find his way back to his room, I took a very quick look around, afraid of what kind of encounter might be in store for me next. I'm in room 8 which is at the very top of the stairs, 4 flights of stairs up. After 20 minutes of heaving and dragging my luggage up the stairs (without the help of anyone of course) I opened my room. To my surprise, it's lovely! Huge, fully furnished, and equip with THE BEST VIEW I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. From my window (which reaches across the entire wall) I can see all of downtown Brighton, a huge gothic church, rows of beautiful buildings, and the entire seaside!!! When the clouds cleared the few view was truly phenomenal.
A little relieved that at least my room was bearable, I locked everything up and decided to have a look around. As I walked down the stairs, I met another roommate, girl from Seattle (who's name I've forgotten cause I've seen her just this once time in 2 days...) who gladly welcomed a fellow American.
"Omg you're the only other American! High five!" she exclaimed.
We chatted for a bit and I asked her how she liked living in this fine establishment. Her response? "haha...um...haha...it's been interesting. Good luck to ya!" And off she went.
COMFORTING HUH.
I continued to look around, completely confused as to where all the bathrooms were, where the kitchen was, if there was a laundry room, etc. Completely overwhelmed and anxiety-ridden, I ventured out onto the streets of Brighton to buy some bedding pronto...no way was I sleeping on that mattress without some serious protection. As I walked, unable to find anything and completely lost, I burst into some pretty significant tears when a fellow American walked by and asked if I needed anything. I stammered through my tears...."Bed Bath and Beyond?!?!" She responded patiently and empathetically..."the mall's that way. Look for BandH for bedding. Don't worry, it get's better."
I hope so, stranger. I sure do!
After a long excursion and a treacherous hike back up a completely vertical hill carrying duvet covers and cheap pillows to boot, I hesitantly rentered the house. This time, I came across British stoner boy who seemed to have taken a shower (thank god) and said "sorry bout earlia love, I was a bit high" and walked out. Cool.
Then I met German girl (whose name I also forgot) who reluctantly took me on a tour of the house after I begged and pleaded her to show me around. Turns out I have another 2 floors beneath the street level consisting of bathrooms, kitchen, common area with TV, laundry room, etc. Not too shabby but still pretty dam grimy and disgusting.
Last encounter was with my RA who I share the same top floor with. I knocked on her door to introduce herself - she was also so high that she forgot to hide her bong before she opened the door for me. Role reversal much? Anyways I asked normal questions about bus schedules and stops that are close by (normal stuff to ask ur RA right?), all of which she couldnt handle because yep, you guessed it, she was too high.
So as it stands I haven't met the 5 other roommates who are milling about my house. When I'm home, I stay locked up in my room (which I'm considering to be an apartment more or less), only emerging when my bladder simply can't handle it anymore. Hopefully someone will come out of their room eventually to meet me cause as of now I see dark corridors, locked rooms, and hear nothing but the strumming of the occasional guitar. Who knows where the fuck I am but when shit gets rough I look out my window and remember how much I truly love the ocean.
Cheers mates,
The American in some sort of halfway house for antisocial pot smoking international students.
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