This B&B has no air conditioning, has expensive wifi that is only available in the the lobby and water costs money.
The windows are open and my pals and I are sitting out of them watching the world go by, eating our newly purchased fruit from the supermarket a few blocks down and making up commentary for the tourists glazing the streets below. After playing a few games and talking, it is was getting late, and one of my friends decided to take a shower. No big deal, right?
She leaves, and we continue to talk and laugh. She returns, and I decide that it is my turn to freshen up. As I stand to make my way to the bathroom, she warns me ‘The water pressure is crazy and the shower doesn’t work very well.’
I’m thinking ‘ok, whatever. I can fix that.’ I say out loud, ‘no big deal, I’ve can make it work.’
All eight of my fellow travelers give me the look of fear, as if I have just said that I was going to go streak through the streets of Vienna or try to swim across Niagara Falls. After being with me for a week and a half, they have learned better than anyone about my tendency to break everything I touch.
One girl reminds me about the sink handle that fell off in my hand, the window that’s hinge broke, the door handle that twisted off, the bathtub that overflowed and tray on the tour bus that snapped off. But this does not phase me. I am determined to fix that shower.
I shut the bathroom door, and turn on the water. Almost instantly, it is right back off. The water pressure is extremely high and the nozzle falls down the pole it is attached to; this could be harder than expected. But I am not one to give up.
I decide to pull out a hair tie from my makeup bag and go about twisting it around the shower head and the pole, securing it to the top. A foolproof plan if I do say so myself.
And fixing the water pressure? Easy! I begin to twist the shower head around in circles and hit it a couple times, shaking it back and forth. I notice that the metal attachment that holds the shower head into the wall is a little loose, but think nothing of it.
A couple more hits to the exposed pipe with the shower head on the end should do the trick, I’m thinking (what was I thinking?!), and I’ll have the shower working in no time.
I proceed to turn the water back on and the shower seems to be working grandly. Normal water pressure, secured shower head, everything is perfect. I consider for a moment moving away from my journalism career dreams and becoming a plumber.
Little did I know that I had thought too soon. Before I finish my fantasizing about a completely different career path, the shower head has fallen out of the wall and has become only half attached to the pole with the hair tie. The nozzle is still attached to the piping, don’t ask me how, but is not at all friends with the wall anymore. The water pressure has spiked even higher than it was before I touched it, and to top off this disaster, the shower head as began spinning around the pole it is attached to as the water hits the walls so hard that it forces it to move at top speed in a circle.
Water is flying everywhere, and is hitting as hard a golf-sized hail. Screaming, I duck and cover. I stay crouched behind the toilet for a moment, before realizing that this waterfall will not turn off itself.
Deep breath, I tell myself, preparing to enter the war zone and turn off the water. Why did this bathroom have to be the size of a master bedroom.
I stand, ready to take action, and walk forward, water hitting my face, drenching my hair and clothes, and everything around me. The floor is like a small pond, and I proceed to fall of my face as I make my way towards the shower.
Water is hitting my back as I lay face down on the floor, regretting ever wanting to wash my hair. I crawl towards the shower and reach out, turning off the water at last.
Leaning my head against the outside of the bathtub, I look up. The wall has a hole, where the shower head once was, and the nozzle is now hanging, onto the pole it can move up and down on, attached by my flimsy blue hair tie.
Deep breath. I look out in front of me, water covering the toilet, the sink, the mirror, my clothes, my friends clothes, every towel.
Water hits my nose. Deep breath, I think, and close my eyes before looking up. The ceiling drips with water. What have I done.
I stand and walk to the door, holding my hand to the wet knob for a few seconds before opening the door. As it opens, creaking, I walk into the main room of our hotel room and see my friends sitting in a circle playing cards, listening to music, perfectly normal. One girl, before seeing me, begins to stand, stating that it’s her turn to take a shower now. Little does she know that that is not going happen.
And then they look up at me and try not to laugh. A few of them get up to look at the bathroom and stares in awe.
No one else got to take a shower that night.
P.S. thanks to my eight friends for helping me clean up that big mess.