Hippos and Party Girls (on Level 3)

Several years ago, I visited Lisbon, Portugal with my friend Felix. Due to weird timing with our flights (and of course that whole jet lag deal), we ended up getting right to our hotel and crashing, only to wake up at 1am feeling completely delirious. And when we’re deliriously tired, we get stupid. Like, really, really stupid. 

Good old Club Hipopotamo.

Good old Club Hipopotamo.

Our room was on the third floor of the hotel, overlooking a busy street. Right below our window, there was a club called Club Hipopatamo, and there were dozens of men waiting in line to enter. We laughed about what a weird name “Hippopotamus Club” was… and because we were over-tired and in a goofy mood, we decided to mess with the men standing in line by yelling in a high-pitched voice “HOLA, PAPI!!!!” repeatedly.

We were getting way too much excitement out of yelling this out the window at the men. In reality, it wasn’t very funny (hello, we’re five years old!) but their reactions were pretty great – every time, the man would look around excitedly, trying to find the girl that was saying hello to them.

After doing this for a while, we started getting too bold. So bold, in fact, that when a large group of German men (who, oddly enough, had a little boy with them) walked up to the club, we yelled “HOLA, PAPI!!!!” and kept our heads outside and waved hello.

This was a big, big mistake.

The men (who clearly have vision problems and couldn’t tell one of us was actually A DUDE) started screaming “PARTY GURRRRLLLLS!!!! PARTY GURLS ON LEBEL THREEEEE!!!!!”  - Of course, we quickly ducked our heads inside and shut the window.

The problem is – those German men (and their child) were very persistent. So persistent, in fact, that they continued screaming “PARTY GURLS ON LEBEL THREEEE!!!!” nonstop for about ten minutes straight.

The German men weren’t wearing lederhosen, but for the sake of the story, let’s just pretend that they were.

Then hotel security called us, wanting to know what we were doing to create such a commotion outside. We played dumb and said we didn’t know what was going on (we didn’t want to get kicked out of our hotel, obviously) and hung up.

Blessedly, the yelling stopped.

Relieved to have escaped the creepy advances of a team of German men (and their kid) we decided to crawl back into bed and go back to sleep.

And then someone knocked on our door.

We thought it was hotel security (and we didn’t want to get in trouble) so we just stayed quiet.

And then the knocking grew louder.

Suddenly, we hear the voices again: “PARTY GURRRLLLLS!!! PARTY GURLLLLS WHERE ARE YOU???!!!!!”

OUTSIDE. OF. OUR. DOOR. 

The German men (and their kid) counted the windows of our hotel and figured out what room we were in.

And the banging grew louder. And louder.

And the German men became angrier at us for not opening the door.

I begged Felix to go up to the door and use his deepest man voice to scare them away, but he was being a wuss.

Sadly, there wasn't a true hippo in sight.

Sadly, there wasn’t a true hippo in sight.

Not knowing what else to do, we called hotel security and the German men (and their kid) were promptly whisked away, back down to Club Hipopatamo.

——–

The next night, Felix and I were looking for something to do, so we decided to search local bars, restaurants and clubs. Good old Club Hipopatamo was one of the first things that popped up, so we clicked to check out its reviews.

Suddenly, everything became clear.

Club Hipopatamo? Is a strip club. 

Not just any strip club – a strip club with a brothel in the back

Those German men? Totally thought they were banging on some hookers’ door to get some action (with their kid?!)

Lesson: Don’t ever do stupid things in other countries. Just… don’t.

 

 

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