Here's a good one. When I checked in to the hotel a few days ago and went to my room, I was immediately taken by the beautiful view out the window (check the photos), cozy decorations, and overall feel of the room. The only tiny problem was that I had no hot water out of either the tub or sink. Ok, not so tiny. Over the course of the last few days I had inquired about this often and last night, they finally suggested I move to a different room so they could fix my current one. While I wasn't thrilled at the idea, I agreed, but wanted to make sure I was satisfied with my new room first. I got a new key and went to take a look and before I even opened the door I was immediately let down. Gone was my view of the garden and mountains, replaced by the monolithic Malawi National Bank across a busy intersection full of honking cars and minibuses. But the hot water did work...hmmm....
As I pondered my choices I decided to walk back to my room to see how difficult of a task was before me to "un"settle out of my current room and as I got close I noticed my door was slightly ajar. I was certain I hadn't done this and I slowed my pace, approaching the door cautiously. While pushing the door open (and wondering how well I can run in boat shoes) I called out hello and immediately heard: "Yes?" followed by a thud followed by "ow!" It appears the repairman (or as his white surgical lab coat read "Specialist") was in my bathroom, on the floor, under the sink, attempting to repair my hot water situation and now also attend to the knot placed on the back of his head from my startling presence and the unforgiving underside of a sink. He quickly assured me that he was working on the problem and it would be an easy, if not quick fix. He told me wait one-half hour and all will be working again. I decided to park myself in the chair by the window, pull out a book, and keep an eye on the process.
While I know nothing of plumbing or home repair (who am I kidding...any repair) it was clear to me that the problem was both in my bathroom (evidenced by his presence in my bathroom) and outside in the hallway (evidenced by his 20+ trips to the hallway). I occasionally glanced up from my book (Hemmingway's "Green Hills of Africa" for the whole two of you who may be interested) to come up with such sleuth-y play by play of his progress, but that was about it. Then, after a number of trips, and the Specialist in the hallway, I heard what can only be described as a squeak, followed by a clang, followed by a bursting sound, followed by the sights and sounds of a geyser of water shooting through the bathroom door and into the room.
Now, one learns a great deal about themselves when something like this occurs. Do you stop and help the victims of a car crash? Do you you pick up the coin and hand it to the elderly man who unwittingly dropped it on the ground? Do you actually return the item you picked up in the store, (but then decided you no longer want it), to it's original place or do you stick it behind the deodorant because that happens to be the aisle you are in when you decide you have no need for a forty-pack of AAA batteries? In my case, I was faced with a tremendous amount of water surging into the hotel room, covering the walls, doors, and floor with no signs of slowing down or stopping. What should/could/did I do?
To those of you who know me well, it should come to absolutely no surprise that I did nothing (and yes, the Paul Simon "Greatest Hits" CD that you found laying on top of the gum in the checkout line was me). Instead I watched The Specialist run into the rapids that was now the front entrance to my room, dive into the bathroom, reemerge drenched a few seconds later and run into the hallway before finally the spewing bathtub stopped. A couple more seconds passed, in silence, before The Specialist slowly opened the door and came back into the room, clearly in some state of shock. We looked at each other, me dry in my chair, him very, very wet in my doorway. I wasn't sure what he was thinking and to be frank, I wasn't entirely sure what I was thinking either. Then, much to my surprise, he began to laugh, at first somewhat sheepishly. I began to laugh at his reaction, which only caused him to now laugh even hard, clearly realizing that I was not angry, but rather just as surprised as he was (albeit a much drier surprised). He shook his head back and forth as he surveyed the room and I walked towards him, stopping just at the edge of the newly created Lake in room 133 and asked if he was ok. "Yes," he said while scratching the top of his head, "well, at least you know everything is clean now, yes?" We both laughed even harder.
In the end, he fixed the problem, housekeeping came and dried off my doors, walls and floor, and I was able to take a long hot shower in my room with the good view. And for the record, I did give the unused key back to the front desk, so it seems I can be taught. Don't hold your breath for my ability to fix anything though.
