Summary

The author recounts a harrowing experience in Dublin, Ireland, where a trip intended for cultural exploration turned into an unexpected and unwanted orgy after using Couchsurfing.

Abstract

The author, who has Irish heritage and was named after Ireland's longest river, embarked on a trip to Dublin for cultural exploration and fun, taking advantage of cheap flights from Switzerland. Initially staying in a hostel, the author planned to Couchsurf for the last two days. However, the experience took a dark turn when the author was subjected to an orgy at the Couchsurfing host's house, which was filled with Brazilian and Venezuelan roommates. Despite warnings from a Russian girl named Dasha at a nightclub and a series of unsettling events, the author was unable to leave due to their belongings being at the house. The night ended with the author being mildly traumatized after witnessing and being pressured to participate in the orgy, with the experience leading to a vow to never use Couchsurfing again.

Opinions

The author expresses a sense of naivety and regret for not heeding the taxi driver's advice to keep the experience to themselves to avoid perpetuating anger.
The author initially enjoyed the cultural aspects of the trip, such as visiting St. Patrick's Cathedral.
The author felt uneasy about the conversation among the housemates, which they could not fully understand due to language barriers.
The author trusted their gut when they felt something was off at the nightclub, especially after being warned by Dasha about the company they were keeping.
The author was shocked and disturbed by the sudden turn of events at the house, which they describe as an alternate universe.
The author emphasizes the importance of personal safety and trusting one's instincts, particularly when using services like Couchsurfing.
The author believes they were protected by angels during their trip to the airport and upon returning home, indicating a sense of gratitude despite the negative experience.

My First Trip to Ireland Ended in an Unwanted Orgy

My pilgrimage, naivete and orgy experience.

God bless that taxi driver who picked me up that Tuesday morning.

My eyes were puffy from crying, and my muscles felt like they were going to give in from exhaustion. The cab driver told me not to share the experience when I got home because it would perpetuate my anger.

I didn’t share the happenings with others, and my mental exhaustion was relieved quite quickly. Here is a glimpse into my Irish orgy experience.

My Trip to Dublin

I have written before about my Irish heritage. I was named after the longest river in Ireland, and I am a fifth-generation descendant of Irish immigrants.

Naturally, I wanted to go to the Irish cultural mecca that is Dublin.

Just kidding — I had just come from Switzerland, and Irish flights to the United States were wildly cheap.

One of my close friends had a good friend who lived in Dublin. But it was finals week for her, and I wanted to have fun — it is Dublin after all!

I chose to get a hostel for a few days and Couchsurf for the last two days. I have had many harrowing CouchSurfing experiences, and to be honest, I will never do it again.

I hopped off the bus to the stop near my hostel, luggage in tow. Before I reached my hostel, I watched a tram hit a bicyclist; this must have been an omen.

After my hostel nights, I took a bus to the Couchsurfing location. My host was not home, so I slept in his bed.

The next day, I went to St. Patricks Cathedral and returned to the Couchsurfing location later that night. I was due to return to the States the day after, and we decided to go out.

The Couchsurfing host was still not home, but his friends were. The house was nice and featured multiple floors, high ceilings, and white marble flooring. I could not afford such accommodations in the States.

I sat with his roommates who were mostly male Brazilians and Venezuelans. A blessing and a curse of being multiethnic are that I can blend it anywhere. I later found out that they thought I was Brazilian and quiet.

I can read some Spanish and understand some Portuguese but I am not fluent. For some reason, the housemates thought I spoke Spanish. I became kind of uneasy about their conversation as we were about to go out. I recorded it and sent it to the friend I had left in Switzerland, who spoke Spanish fluently. Of course, my reception was not good, so I missed her translation response. I left for the nightclub, not knowing about their topic of conversation.

The Nightclub Experience

The lone image of the house; image by author

We got to the nightclub and I walked upstairs as the others followed me into what turned out to be VIP.

The guys got excited. “We never get into VIP,” they exclaimed as they flashed their wristbands. I did not get a wristband because I did not know I was entering VIP.

VIP was nice because you were elevated above the main floor and could breathe fresh air.

Drinks were also free. Mistake number one: do not imbibe in free drinks if you are unsure of your company.

I met some cool people in VIP. In particular, an awesome Russian girl named Dasha! At the end of the night, she told me the people I was with were “bad” guys and that I should come back with her. Sadly, my luggage, passport, and all of my items were back at their house.

I thought it would be impossible to leave all of my stuff at their place with a flight leaving in 12 hours. Eventually, I hugged Dasha goodbye and went back with the guys. I was tired with my flight was leaving in less than 12 hours.

The guy with whom I was supposed to couch surf had returned to the house for the first time.

Unfortunately, he was hooking up with a girl in his bedroom with the door closed and my luggage present.

I sat on the couch, and things got weird.

All of the sudden, the lights turned off. Bass started pumping. Do you know that “unce unce unce” sound of techno? Lights started flashing, and the guys stripped down to their boxers.

You cannot make this stuff up. In hindsight, I laugh. Like where the heck was I?

People started making out and everyone was speaking in Spanish. A beautiful girl with fake lips and botox started talking to me, and she reached in for a kiss.

I may have entered an alternate universe.

I love having fun and meeting new people, but this was not kind of fun. My 6th-grade health teacher did a good job of scaring me about promiscuity and what it can lead to.

I am all for free expression but hooking up with strangers and orgies are just not my vibe.

Cameras came out, and the guys started recording.

A light-haired, light-eyed Venezuelan man snarled at me “You are costing me money!”

I will never forget his tone or expression.

I was not allowed to sleep that night and was mildly traumatized for a short time.

I will stop the story there and say that I am blessed, things could have been worse. I am lucky that nothing worse happened, and I believe I met angels on my trip to the airport and back home.

Be careful Couchsurfing, and trust your gut! At least I have a story to tell!