That awkward moment when….
Your wonderful friend accidentally recommends a brothel* for you to stay in.
(*Disclaimer – In no way have I gone into any form of stealth, undercover mode to further corroborate this as fact. This is an assumption based on sights and sounds I experienced first hand and a healthy dollup of joining the proverbial dots.)
We’re all going on a ….festive, bratwurst break.
You know that feeling, those exciting ‘city break’ vibes we all get – ooh a weekend away with good friends, good food and in this case GERMAN CHRISTMAS MARKETS. This capitalisation is more necessary than you probably think, because even it’s audacious shoutiness does not begin to accurately spell out for you my love of Christmas – it runs so deep.
Picture the scene, my beloved Laura (yes the very same, my other Flawkward half, writing soulmate and all round perfect human) moved away to Frankfurt to be with her handsome beau, and we both instantly – through our tears – agreed we would unite for a festive gathering.
After some consideration Laura suggested we stay close by as she thought four adults fighting for space in her apartment might be a tad much and very kindly mentioned a place close by where Adam (aforementioned beau) had stayed while he was scoping out their new life there. Fantastic!
Frankfurt-stein – Hotel of Horrors.
We survived our Ryanair flight and the taxi ride to the hotel. Our immediate impression was that it was slightly odd – think eighties formica and glass check in desk, pleather sofa and tiled floors (so chic). We checked in with every classic British trait we had – we spoke loudly and slowly in place of knowing the language and we said thank you at least eighteen times in forty-five seconds.
Our room was…..well, slightly tired to be kind and it stank of stale smoke, the bathroom was essentially a converted fitted wardrobe. We had some time to kill so we unpacked and very adventurously collapsed onto the bed. That’s when the first clue revealed itself.
Now, don’t get me wrong, many people enjoy some ‘afternoon delight’, especially in hotel scenarios (I wasn’t always a nana-napping, sleep obsessed mother of two), BUT there was some very vigorous ‘behaviour’ going on nearby and I am almost sure there were more than two people in that room. This was LOUD.
Anyway, we laughed a bit, sat in the awkwardness of it all and finally decided enough was enough – time to meet Laura and Adam…hooray.
When we arrived back in reception, it was densely populated by men who were neither checking in or out, they had no bags, no cars were outside for them. Clue Two. Then more men arrived with one singular woman and several of them hurried off to the lifts. I appreciate I am making some LEAPS here, but this place was shady at best.
We regaled Laura and Adam over glorious Greek food and Laura was of course, horrified at the hilarity of what we had experienced so far. Admittedly, these things may have been completely unrelated and it may be that I am just old, cynical and overly suspicious.
To say I didn’t love sleeping there would be an understatement. I was pretty glad to leave and be near a washing machine to wash the stench of nicotine and the unforgettable sound of other people’s love noises off my clothes.
However, apart from our likely-brothel temporary home, we ate, we laughed, we Christmased and we had bloody wonderful time. The moral of this story is RESEARCH…I shall forevermore not trust my friends and always select my own accommodation in future (Laura, I jest, you’re perfection).