Stay Classy San Diego

I arrived in San Diego about a week ago, and it has been a pretty eventful time. I surfed with dolphins (not to be mistaken with surfing on dolphins – which is my new dream), I saw a tramp with a pigeon on his head and I landed myself a job. All of this actually happened on one day – it was a good one, partly due to the above but mainly because united got dicked 6 1 at home.

A hobo / flying rat hybrid

The job represents another important step forward in my career plan. As a male housekeeper I have quickly had to learn how to make a bed and hoover. Once I have some sway with the gaffer I am going to formally request a gas mask – the smell in the six bed male dorms is truly something to behold. It is a pretty sweet gig. Most days I start at 10am and finish by 2pm and I get to meet everyone staying at the hostel – although I'm not sure that they will like me that much given the circumstances (hoovering whilst they try to sleep). The hostel is mint – it is in fact rated number one in America. I have been informed that I am an ambassador for the hostel and the brand. I always knew that one day I would be an ambassador, I just didn't expect to achieve this through housekeeping. I think I will excel. My propensity for cleanliness and hygiene is complimented by a natural flair for changing bed linen. When combined with a disciplined work ethic and self control I envisage that my career will continue to go from strength to strength.

Looking forward to falling down these

For my efforts I get free accommodation and breakfast. Effectively for my daily four hour shift I am raking in a cool $6.25 an hour (pro rata). Whilst I am obviously accustomed to the blood, sweat and tears of dormitory life it is taking some getting used to cleaning it up. Even more problematic is trying to remember the names of my team mates. There are about ten of us in total – a jap, two brazilians, a frenchy, a couple of aussies and a few english lads. Yesterday I moved into the staff quarters known as 'the jungle'. It has earned this nickname as it resembles a wooden jungle gym. It is a room about 3m x 3m and sleeps seven people in triple fucking decker format amongst a mass of ladders and mezzanines. There is very limited storage space, no lockers and if I fall out of my top bunk then I am a dead man.

Welcome to the jungle

My Spanish amigo Alfonso, who I met in my hostel in LA has now returned to the city of angels, which is a shame. He spoke very limited english and I speak very limited spanish, so communication was not exactly smooth. Even though communication was difficult I could tell that he was a top top boy. We initially bonded over a mutual hatred of the yellow vested aussie. The bond was sealed through a mutual hatred of the worst aussie yet – some hick from rural victoria who kept banging on about “Tommy fucking Johnson”. I assumed that this was an obscure reference to the little known australian striker from the early 1990's. Alfonso said to me in really broken english that the aussie “looks like the chucky from childs play movie”, which he totally did. When Alfonso arrived in the USA a few weeks before me he could not speak english, but after spending around ten days in my company he has improved significantly. He was quite terrified of leaving the hostel as he could not speak the language, but I managed to persuade him to come to San Diego with me. He stuck to me like glue, but I hope that fact that everything turned out okay on his return journey will give him the confidence to get out a bit more.

My boy Alfonso

Last night it was the main Halloween celebrations in San Diego. Christ they make such a fuss about it over here. People have been going out in costumes since thursday evening. Last night they closed off two streets for a block party. As the new boy I have been utterly shafted and I have had to work three evening shifts in a row (friday, saturday and sunday). The evening shift (8pm – 11.30pm) includes cleaning the toilets, showers and kitchen. So instead of getting involved in the celebrations I have been cleaning skid marks off toilet bowls. As a hostel worker I have to wear fancy dress for shifts. Obviously I didn't want to spend much cash on this and without the inspiration from bobby fancydress breese it was unlikely that I could ever win best in show; so I cobbled together something from the charity shop and for the last couple of nights I have been scrubbing the floor and cleaning the bogs dressed like tom hanks in castaway. This being california there is a very laid back management system. Last night I was encouraged by the manager to drink during my shift so that I would be pissed when I went. By 10pm I had drunk half a bottle of rum with an hour of work still to complete. The responsibilities include making the pancake batter for breakfast – needless to say their were a lot of disappointed customers making their pancakes this morning with a sort of white water type goo. When I went out the streets were packed and people had gone all out to impress, and impress they did.

My new work attire - depicting perfectly my career progression

I have really been enjoying life in San Diego. The hostel is located bang in the centre of downtown where the streets and bars are always teeming with minge. The weather is really good and the city has a great vibe. The rules of employment are pretty liberal. Basically as long as your are not too hungover or stoned to work then anything goes. Staff are allowed to use the roof to smoke joints and one of the guys has made some ridiculously strong cookies. He gave me one to eat a few nights ago and it tore me a new asshole. I had played interhostel football earlier in the day and was recovering from a hangover. I ate the cookie at around 8pm, and by 9.30pm I was pretty much handicapped. The staff also have a private smoking balcony, aka a wooden fire escape. I managed to summon the strength to go for a burn and then got quickly back into bed. Around twenty minutes later I heard a load of commotion, so I peered around the door and there were people making haste towards the fire escape with bowls of water. It turns out that I had stubbed my burn out on a rotting wooden post and because it never rains it had caught on fire, which was a tidy situation for someone who could barely walk after 3 days of employment. I closed the dorm door and slept like a baby.

Beach day with the staff

There are four lads and two girls in my room. I find myself stuck between two social groups. The two english lads are pretty dominant personalities and form the cool kids clique. They go out a lot and are fairly good craic, but I am struggling to really click with them. They are best mates from back home, it is always easier with a wing man in tow. On the other side are the stoner misfits – many of whom have a cool story to tell but are sometimes not the most sociable. I find myself hovering between the two groups. Aside from blurred social hierarchy's and the occasional fire life in San Diego is good, and as I lay in my bed at 5am this morning listening to the soothing grooves of one of the english lads knocking the back door out of some bird from Burnley, I thought to myself that I could get used to this – so I'm going to stick around for a little bit.

And pop