Originally, I had contacted a woman about our age who had made a profile on Warm Showers. She said she was at a party and wouldn't be coming home that night, but gave us her roommate's number instead. He seemed confused by the whole situation, but gave us his address and said he had no problem with us staying there. There was a metal show going on outside, and he'd be the guy in the "Hillary for Prison" shirt.
The address he gave us turned out to be a bar. It was a little while before I realized that his apartment was above the bar. Still in my bike shorts and reflective vest, I wheeled my bike through a mob of thrashing metalheads and carried it up to what I hoped was his balcony, then locked it up and went looking for his shirt. I finally found him inside and significantly drunk. He bought me a beer and we talked for a while while Mike went to grab pizza. Our host apparently assumed that the woman I originally contacted had only signed up for WarmShowers to find hookups, so he wasn't sure why she sent us to him, and unsubtly tried to ask about our sexualities. I wasn't sure what to do with that. He said we should sleep in her bed in case she came home. We didn't. He also said she left for the party after getting mad at him for drunkenly peeing on the floor, but he described how the truth was that someone removed the screen on their window and broke in to, apparently, pass out on their carpet, piss themselves, and then leave without being detected. I just nodded.
Mike showed up later with pizza. Our host showed us around his apartment and introduced us to his very lovable German Shepard, and we headed back to the bar. An 18-year-old that worked at the pizza shop showed up later, and explained that he was homeless and recognized Mike as homeless or a traveler, and wanted to show us one of his favorite sleeping spots. I told our host that we'd be back. He looked like he was pretty well entrenched at the bar at that point, anyway. The spot turned out to be the roof of an eleveator shaft for a parking garage that required a full muscle-up to scale -- not just climbing a wall, but a ledge with no assistance from one's legs. Neither Mike nor I had that kind of upper-body strength, though I think I made a valiant effort. Instead, we stood below the ledge and chatted up at the kid, discussing what it was like being homeless in Molin, and what strategies he had developed to get by.
We returned to the bar to find that our host had, unsurprisingly, disappeared. He had also locked us out of his apartment. We saw him stumble around in his kitchen, but he was too focused on maintaining his own balance to notice us. His theory about someone breaking in to wet the carpet seemed even less plausible at this point. He did tell me exactly how to break in to his apartment without leaving a trace, though. So I did that. Mike and I made ourselves at home while the dog excitedly greeted us. Thankfully, the dog was not a very good guard despite her breed. Mike, the dog, and I all slept in the living room.
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