I was held hostage in some strange woman's bedroom

Only in Cuba.

So before I begin to explain the title I have to fill in on some background. 

Last week the gals and me went on a little adventure to a drag show slash gay dance club right outside Havana near a park dedicated to Señor Lenin. In order to get to this outdoors-drag-dance-destination one must walk to the Yara Theater and axe a cab driver to take you to "la fiesta". The cabbies are savvy and they know exactly what you be talking about. This is what Honorio, Emmsicle, Songe, and me did. 

The ride to such parties is about half an hour. I was sitting next to Emma who was sitting next to Songe who was sitting next to a strange man we met at a smokey gay café. Typical. At one point I gave Emma the side-eye and saw that she was sleeping in the cab. "What are we doing with our lives?", I thought.

The party was a blast. There I met someone and his name is José Raúl Yopíz. His name is full of accents and his character is beyond normal. I've been seeing him for a week and so far I've been to the emergency room with him due to his heart problems, talked to his grandmother over the phone various times, found out he was diabetic after feeding him rum on his 28th birthday, and been told via Chelz that he's in love with me. He also calls me at least twice a day and demands to see me every night. Don't worry, this is all very traditional Cuban dating behavior. 

Last night our plans were to find a room for the night and braid each other's hair. There we were walking around Havana ringing on his friend's door bells and asking if there was a room available. Eight doors later we still couldn't find a room. Why couldn't we go to his place you axe? There is currently a crime investigation in his building and everyone of his neighbors is on the look-out for strangers. 

After taking a 30 minute bus ride to some beach town with no luck again we made it back to Havana near the capitolio. José knocked on some gal's door and she answered in her PJs. By this time the sun was already up. Her place was tiny, think loft minus the chic factor. On the floor was the woman's son sleeping with his girlfriend (?) and on the loft there were two beds. One for the gal and one for us. I was so exhausted I didn't even think about the fact that this gal was going to sleep with us. Originally I was going to sleep in my shirt and jeans until the gal told me not to be shy and take my shirt off so I can be comfortable. Of course, because the only awkward and horribly uncomfortable part of this nap was having my shirt on.  

And there I slept in this tiny loft with no windows with some strange woman to my right and José to my left. After sleeping until noon I needed to get up and leave. Not only were my feet bleeding and bloated from walking so much, but I smelled and had to poop. I couldn't find my keys and realized José had them. I tried to wake him up and get my keys, but he ignored me. I shook him, held his nostrils shut, poked his ear, anything to wake him and get my keys. After two hours of this nonsense he got sick of my poking and said he wasn't going to give me my keys back. That's when he spider-monkeyed me. The only way I can describe this is a sort of aggressive cuddle. This man was holding me hostage and his weapon of choice was cuddling. I never felt so trapped. 

Eventually he let loose and we left the gal's loft around 4PM. In the end, we did not braid each other's hair.