Dude went to West Point, but saints preserve me if I ever had to entrust the safety of my life, liberty or property to this doofus. I think I've been eternally prejudiced against what surely is a fine, fine institution thanks to this guy, who nevertheless played a small but crucial part in the course the rest of my journey would take. You'll just waste newly acquired lira calling lame hostels with no room for you, you stupid backpacker. What you have to do is meet a doofus on the train, stand around looking stupid with him in the middle of the train station for at least an hour until two female Canadian backpackers pass you by. Go to hostel, and marvel at how many thousand lira it takes to get a lousy bite to eat.
Hostels can be strange places, and Rome was no exception.
The first glimmer of warning came when we realized that this fellow lived in the hostel- in one of the shitty communal bunks, to boot. By the third day, we lived in fear. The girls staying in the hostel were the first to realize that he was a complete psycho- the pattern of his room assignment quickly resolved itself to be Put the Attractive Young Women in His Room. It being summer, in Europe, in a youth hostel, he had no shortage. On top of that, he had a tendency to 'sleepwalk', and had been caught staring at sleeping guests at very odd hours of the night.