Eutrotrip 2022 Chronicles: The Snoring Olympics
Context: every so often, Exodus employees meet up IRL to vacation and co-work together. Wonderful and memorable things happen. Unfortunately, half of those memories drown at the bottom of a glass. The other 49% disappear into the ether, casualties of bugs in short-term to long-term memory consolidation, exacerbated by certain individuals snoring themselves and everyone around them into an early grave. Sleep apnea is not a joke (yet).
Enough FUD. 1% is plenty. I’ve filled the gaps with poetic license, smoothed over inconsistencies with ambiguity and diluted the result with lies that I’ve since convinced myself are true, using the great science of homeopathy. The Truth is dead, long live The Truth!
We rented two AirBNBs in Ljubljana. What happened in the other one is a secret I’ll take to my grave. Ours on the other hand, was committed to full transparency. I’m legally obligated to disclose all the happenings and goings on. Even the shenanigans.
The place filled up gradually. The first night it was Alex P, Diego and myself sharing the 3-bed dorm room. Alex P, a.k.a. The Toastmaster, assured us that he only snored when he was drunk and he wasn’t drunk so we had nothing to fear. It was a rigorous mathematical proof. Diego said he didn’t snore but that if he did he was sorry in advance, and to throw a pillow at him if anything. I said nothing because I was trying to fall asleep as fast as I could before those two liars started their engines.
Alex checked out like someone’d pressed his power button and then proceeded to snore like someone was sawing his throat open but he was determined to keep breathing right through it. I was as frustrated as the guy with the saw and just as likely to fall asleep in the process. Diego was like that tree that falls in the forest that philosophers won’t stop arguing about. We’ll never know if he snored that night. If he did, he was like a seagull squawking into a category 5 hurricane.
The second night, Dimitrios and Fede arrived. We gave Dimitrios the master bedroom. As the only one of us with muscles, it made sense to get on his good side early. Alex retired to the living room fold-out couch to test the resonance frequencies of the walls there. Fede replaced him in the 3-bed dorm. He promised not to snore, while Diego apologized in advance again, just in case. Conscience clear, Diego snored happily away, dodging my pillow throws like an acrobat, while Fede spent all night slurping enthusiastically at a never-ending bowl of soup or maybe an ice cream cone. I have no idea what was actually happening but that’s what I heard. It was a hideous duet, the kind that might inspire a Stephen King novel or a divorce.
By the end of the week, everyone had been accused of something. Yours truly was accused of talking in his sleep, but I think the guys knew I felt left out as the only quiet and civilized one and were trying to make me feel better by spreading vicious rumors about me. It worked, I felt positively vindicated.
