These Boots Were Made For… Really Gross Popsicles

Visiting Milan, I stayed at a youth hostel not far from the cathedral, sharing a room with a group of Australian backpackers composed of two girls and a guy, all around twenty-five years of age. The sharing of the room in itself wasn’t all that bad, since we were all quiet enough in our nightly routines and had similar waking-up schedules. The problem lay elsewhere.

One day, I went to the hostel’s common kitchen to have breakfast and found myself in front of a guy holding a pair of leather boots that were covered in a patina of frost and dripping water.

Guy: *In accented English* “Oh, hey, are these boots yours?”

Me: “Uh, no, those aren’t mine. Why do you ask?”

Guy: “Well, some dumb f*** put these boots in the freezer box. Who the h*** does that?” 

I blinked. That was definitely not normal. Soon after, I heard a screeching behind me. Turning around, I saw one of my bunkmates running forward.

Girl: “What in the name of Christ are you doing to my boots?! I put them in the esky for a reason!”

Guy: “Esky? I don’t know what that is, but this is a freezer. It’s f****** nasty to throw these in the same place we store frozen peas.”

The girl outright ripped the boots out of the guy’s hands.

Girl: “Ice kills bacteria, and bacteria make my boots stink heaps. What am I supposed to do?!”

Me: *Timidly* “M-maybe put them out the window? I wouldn’t mind.”

Girl: “I would mind!”

Guy: “Well, I mind much more that you keep your dirty f****** boots in the freezer, so you either calm the f*** down or I’m going to get you kicked out.”

Girl: “F*** you and fuck your [slur for Italians] a**.”

And then, she ran out. The same day, the group left the room three days earlier than they intended, though I’m not sure whether they were kicked out or left by their own will, as I was out and about. One thing’s for sure: I’m still not sure who even puts shoes — let alone boots covered in city gunge — inside places storing food like it’s nothing.