005-Debate.txt

005-Debate.txt

A discussion, esp. one in which several people with different opinions about something discuss them seriously, or the process of discussing something. Generally futile.

My first stop in Europe was at the Exmouth Arms hostel in London. The hostel featured a pub which closed to the public around eleven at night. Guests however, had twenty-four access to the bar. Outside of some good pub grub, the perks ended there. The hostel portion wasn't much. On account of the windows having no curtains, it was impossible to sleep past five in the morning. The shower floors seemed to be lined with skateboard grip tape. The toilets were tragic and the bunks were a half notch above what you'd find in a jail cell. But I was here for the bar, low cost, and short walking distance to Euston station. Amenities and niceties didn't appeal much to be. I was okay with roughing it urban style.

After befriending a couple earlier in the day, I was recovering from a particularly nasty hangover. I have a bit of a proclivity for finding my way into free cocaine. And here again I had managed to do so. I wish I could remember the hours of coke infused conversation, but it probably wasn't of much consequence. Likely some garbage about Trump or Brexit. Maybe it was about the next thing we always say we are going to do, but never do. Most of the time, the next thing is just the next thing we say. Over and over and over until I staggered back up the hostel stairs and threw my body onto the bunk. It was around eleven-thirty of that same night that I awoke. Guilt took hold. I couldn't sleep away a vacation day. So I staggered back down the stairs, ordered a pint, and sat down at a vacant booth.

"Hey" said a female voice into my left ear.

Abby was a taller female, perhaps slightly taller than myself. She had a pale complexion with short, punk rock pink hair, and the outfit to go with it. I had been eyeing her throughout my five-day stay. I had always had a thing for girls dressed as punk rockers. Gothics too, something about that style, black on pale really appealed to me. Outside of a brief stint with liberty spikes in junior high, it wasn't a style I had ever tried. I dressed pretty plain I suppose. I wore myself on the inside and if you drank enough with me, you might get to see more.

"What?" I replied in a startled manner.

"Whoa, hey there, I was just going to ask if you wanted to have a drink with us. We generally invite the guests over to drink and find out about their holiday" she replied.

"Sorry, you're just..."

"Just what?"

"Just part of the staff so I thought. Well, I don't know what I thought. Sure that would be great." I replied in the not so smoothest manner ever.

It was at their table that I met James. I had overheard him singing the type of songs you'd expect to hear from an Englishmen earlier. He was clearly the life of the table.

"So what brings you to London?" asked James.

The truth of it was. I didn't know what brought me here. I suppose London was just an easy first stop in Europe. There was no language barrier and you could easily traverse to other European cities. Beyond that, I didn't really know what I was doing in London. I didn't even really know what I was doing period. This just seemed like something to check off a list. Who wants to die without having been to Europe? But this wasn't a response fitting for casual conversation.

"Oh I've always wanted to see London and its a good first stop before hitting other parts of Europe" I replied.

"And where else might that be?" asked James.

"I'll be traveling to Ireland next."

"Will yah now? Well I happen to be from there."

James was a saint. He jotted down a number of places for me to visit. Specifically imploring me to get outside of Dublin and visit the "real" Ireland, which to him, was Galway. After playing tour guide we drank for another few hours. Gulping down pint after pint. The conversation eventually turned religious as James and his friends debated whether God existed. It was a tired conversation, beat to death, I generally tried to avoid getting involved in it. Feeling a bit out of place I hadn't said much in a while. Abby must have caught wind of this.

"And what do you think Chris?" beckoned Abby with a full group now gazing on me.

"I think I don't know, so it doesn't really matter."

"Ah so we shouldn't concern ourselves with what we don't know?" responded James.

"Of course not, but this isn't a Scientific question. My response might seem like a provincial one, but I can boil my entire belief on the matter down to a single sentence because of how much thought I've given it. Its impossible to prove the existence or non-existence of God. So why concern myself with thinking about it when there are so many other unanswered questions that have answers worth exploring." I responded back.

"You're right. It's impossible to answer. Its one of the longest running debates in human history. One by one we're answering the big questions. But this one keeps going. That's the fun part. You can polish your debate skills on a topic that you can never lose on. But I like your answer. To not giving a shit." said James as he raised his pint.

We collectively clanked our glasses, laughed, and finished them off.