Stepping out of my comfort zone, I planned to attend my first couch surf event today. The day started late, around 11 a.m., as I woke up feeling tired and unmotivated to head into the city. The idea of visiting Rockefeller Center and its observation deck crossed my mind, but instead, I focused on writing. Progressing through my articles, I managed to upload content up to the Bahamas section—a small but satisfying achievement.

Getting Ready

Scrolling the internet, I felt a bit desperate to find some company. The hostel was nearly empty, and I really wanted to celebrate the 4th of July with a group (though, in the end, that didn’t happen—such is life). For seven months, I’d had a profile on Couchsurfing.com, knowing they organized couch surf events in various cities. As luck would have it, New York had gatherings every Thursday. After some deliberation, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and give it a try.

Late in the afternoon, I took a shower and shaved—my usual routine before heading out (yes, a touch of vanity there). Once dressed, I hesitated over my choice of footwear. Trousers paired with socks and sandals didn’t exactly scream style, and I knew I needed proper shoes but hadn’t bought any yet. Drew even commented on it, which gave me more to think about.

Shopping for Shoes

The couch surf event was set to start around 9 p.m. and run until 1 a.m. I left the hostel around 7:30 p.m. and quickly made my way to Ditmars Boulevard (see picture 2 below). The weather was awful, but I hoped it would hold off until I reached the bar. As I walked toward the subway, a large shoe store caught my eye. “Why not check it out?” I thought. Inside, I found a pair of decent-looking shoes for just $30. The seller mentioned a deal: I could get a second pair for half price, any style I liked. Tempting, but I passed—I didn’t want to add extra weight to my already full backpack.

I had an amusing conversation with a woman in the store who was from a South American country. She quickly picked up on the fact that I wasn’t local and asked where I was from. When I told her, she mentioned she hoped my team would beat Costa Rica, and I thanked her for the support. She was full of energy, cracking jokes and radiating the lively spirit of a true Latina. There was even a hint of playful flirting in her demeanor.

After leaving the store, I decided to head back to the hostel to drop off my sandals. The trip took longer than I had anticipated.

Astoria Station

The bus didn’t arrive at its scheduled time, but eventually, I managed to drop off my sandals and was ready to head out again. This time, I opted for the other bus since the one on Ditmars Boulevard never showed up. As I mentioned earlier, there are two subway stations: one on Ditmars Boulevard and the other on Astoria Boulevard. The subway line begins at Ditmars and continues through Astoria before heading down into Manhattan. I decided to take the route to Astoria this time. Once there, I snapped a few photos of the ominous clouds gathering overhead.

When I finally reached the station I needed, I had to get my bearings. I ended up heading down the wrong boulevard just as a heavy downpour began. Forced to take cover, I found shelter under a lean-to and waited for about 15 minutes as the rain eased up slightly. Seizing the chance, I dashed to the corner of the street and ducked into a pharmacy. I considered buying something but found the prices too steep. After another 10 minutes of waiting, the rain finally let up. The streets were now dotted with puddles and small streams of water. I resumed walking in what I hoped was the right direction. Ten minutes later, I confirmed I was on the correct path and made my way to Solas Bar at 232 E 9th Street.

An Uneasy Start

I stepped inside and headed toward the back, knowing the couch surf event was being held upstairs. I was amazed by the sheer number of people—easily around 100. It felt like a typical bustling bar. A line had formed to get name tags, which everyone wore to distinguish members of the community from regular patrons. While waiting, I struck up a conversation with the girl behind me, Clio from France. She mentioned she’d been to these events before, and I shared that it was my first time attending.

I felt a bit out of place as I stood there at the couch surf event, unsure of what to expect. To settle my nerves, I decided to grab a beer and give it five minutes. If I didn’t connect with anyone, I’d head back to the hostel. The earlier downpour had been a hassle and had already put a damper on my mood.

Clio approached me and we headed toward the back of the bar. There, we found a guy sitting by himself and struck up a conversation. His name was Armando, a local from New York. He attended the meetings whenever he could and mentioned that tonight was busier than usual, likely due to the 4th of July.

More Beers and More Conversations

I went up to the bar to grab another beer. It was packed, and as I scanned the crowd, I noticed an Argentinean girl chatting with a Colombian guy. We made eye contact, and I struck up a conversation. They were friendly and asked where I was from. I told them to take a guess. They tossed out the usual guesses—Germany and Sweden—but I gave them one more try. If they got it right, I’d buy them a drink. The Colombian guy nailed it: “Netherlands,” he said. I bought him a drink, and we started chatting. They were both cool people. The Argentinean girl mentioned she was staying with a New Yorker, and after a bit, she revealed it was Armando. I laughed and told her I had just met him in the bar.

The night turned out to be so much fun and full of surprises at the couch surf event. I met a great guy from France named Vincent and another from Germany named Rene. I had tons of conversations, though I forgot a lot of names along the way. It was a strange but enjoyable experience—everyone was so open and friendly! You could strike up a conversation with anyone, and it would turn into something interesting. Everyone was either a traveler or looking for a new host, haha. One girl from the UK, Sarah, was busy talking to everyone, trying to figure out if they were hosts with a couch available for her.

Meeting Steve

After a while at the couch surf event, an American guy named Steve started chatting with me. He was from a small town in Illinois and seemed like a really cool, laid-back guy. He told me he was doing an internship at a bank and was planning to head to Europe soon. We had a great conversation about travel, and he was genuinely impressed by my journey. I really enjoyed talking to him.

The great time I had led to me getting quite tipsy. Frequent tips to the bartender seemed to be the right move, especially since a website had mentioned that tipping in the US often results in a free drink now and then. She was really friendly, so I tipped her a dollar or two with each drink. Once I was a bit more tipsy, I switched to Cokes. I joked with her, asking if she did refills, and she laughed, saying, “Sure, give me your glass.” Of course, refills aren’t typically done in bars or clubs, but she gave me another drink on the house. It was probably the only time I experienced such great service in the US—despite tipping in other bars, I never got anything extra like that.

After a while, Steve mentioned he was meeting up with an old friend and asked if I wanted to join. I decided to tag along. He said they were heading to a really “fratty” bar, packed with students (third picture above). Around 1 a.m., we left Solas and made our way to the bar (I forgot the name).

New York’s Frattiest Bar

Steve was spot on about the place—it was extremely fratty. It felt like I had stepped into a scene from The Social Network. The atmosphere was surreal, maybe thanks to the alcohol, but the people were clearly focused on their own groups. I made eye contact with almost everyone, but it was as if they were all too nervous to engage.

After a quick trip to the restroom, I lost track of Steve, so I decided to grab a beer at the bar. I struck up a conversation with an American couple, who clearly thought they were a cut above the rest—very snobby. They noticed my accent and asked where I was from. I jokingly said I was from the US, but they saw right through it and kept talking. We chatted about travel, and I could tell they were impressed. When Steve came back, I handed him his beer. Eventually, when the conversation ran dry and they had nothing else to say, they simply turned their backs and walked off. “You were right about the fratty people,” I said to Steve. Unbelievable.

Then I met Steve’s friend, Louis, who worked at a bank in New York. He was with his friend Chris. Both of them were total workaholics, putting in over 100 hours a week at the bank. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine living like that—just crazy. Louis had to work again the next day, but at least he had a rare day off now.

The Next Avenue

We stayed at the fratty bar for about 30 minutes before leaving. They knew of another cool spot, and I was amazed by how many bars there were in this part of Manhattan. After just 5 minutes, we decided it wasn’t great and moved on to the next one, which was way more crowded. Don’t ask me the name—I was pretty drunk by that point.

The conversations with Louis, Chris, and Steve were a blur. At some point, Chris had to leave for work, so it was just me with Louis and Steve for a while. The back section of the bar closed, and we were asked to leave. My phone was charging, so I headed over to grab it. That’s when I realized I had lost track of Steve and Louis—they’d already left, though the front part of the bar was still packed with people. I figured they’d be there, but they weren’t. In my tipsy state, I decided to stay at the bar and wait for my phone to charge a bit more. I’d plugged it into one of those power chargers lockers you pay two bucks for. It was a cool setup, so I figured I’d make the most of it.

While waiting for my phone to charge, I had a few brief, surface-level conversations with some girls, but nothing substantial came from it. Afterward, I grabbed some fast food at McDonald’s and headed back to the subway. It was the dirtiest McDonald’s I had ever seen, filled with some chaotic homeless individuals. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the employees and what they had to endure.

I had to get off at a station to transfer to another line that would take me to Queens. As I walked along Lexington Avenue, my bladder started to get the best of me again. There was no McDonald’s, no restaurants, and no hotels in sight. In desperation, I found a small corner and had to relieve myself there—it was either that or risk an accident. Fortunately, no one saw me. I know it wasn’t ideal, but nature was calling.

Chirping Birds

Once at Lexington station (I think it was somewhere around 53rd or 59th), I had to wait for the next train. A few wild homeless individuals were wandering around, and after witnessing one of them shouting and causing a scene, I made eye contact with another guy. “Welcome to New York,” he remarked. I couldn’t help but think cynically, “You clearly haven’t seen San Francisco.”

I made my way to the subway and reached Queens around 5:15 a.m. The sun was rising, but the bus wasn’t driving (a little rhyme there!). I had to walk about 30 blocks back to the hostel. It was a long walk, but being tipsy (and sobering up slowly) made it feel a bit easier. I reminisced about the amazing night at the couch surf event. By around 5:45, I finally arrived back at the dorm.

I brushed my teeth and lay down. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep.