Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Mysterious Wet Spot
I had to travel for work over the past two days, which meant an overnight stay at one of America's many fine economically priced hotels. I always find it kind of weird to stay in a hotel all by myself, because it's not like there's a ton to do there besides filling my ice bucket and watching a little bit of free HBO. I thought about going for a swim, but apparently there was a Screaming Children Convention in town, because the pool was loaded with them. I actually did hit the hotel gym for a while, but given that the treadmills had treads about four centimeters wide and displays that appeared to have been stolen from a Commodore 64, I didn't make a ton of progress there. I ended up just lying in bed and making a series of phone calls in which I complained of being bored and lonely. My friends are so lucky to know me.
But the real fun began the next morning when I was watching Dawson's Creek and, as I sat on the foot of my bed so that I could get a closer look at Katie Holmes' wonky eye, I was surprised to find myself sitting in something wet. I investigated potential sources of this wetness, such as perhaps a damp towel from my shower or a small leak in the ceiling, but none panned out. (And no, I didn't wet the bed, thank you, unless I've started not only bedwetting but also peeing from my feet.) I gave the spot a little no-contact sniff, but I couldn't really detect any odor that might serve to identify the source. I thought about calling the front desk, but I wasn't sure how that conversation would really go. ("Um, hi, I'm in Room 330, and I'm concerned someone may have ejaculated on my bed.") So I guess it will just have to remain a mystery. It's a lot like Easter Island in that way.
I had to travel for work over the past two days, which meant an overnight stay at one of America's many fine economically priced hotels. I always find it kind of weird to stay in a hotel all by myself, because it's not like there's a ton to do there besides filling my ice bucket and watching a little bit of free HBO. I thought about going for a swim, but apparently there was a Screaming Children Convention in town, because the pool was loaded with them. I actually did hit the hotel gym for a while, but given that the treadmills had treads about four centimeters wide and displays that appeared to have been stolen from a Commodore 64, I didn't make a ton of progress there. I ended up just lying in bed and making a series of phone calls in which I complained of being bored and lonely. My friends are so lucky to know me.
But the real fun began the next morning when I was watching Dawson's Creek and, as I sat on the foot of my bed so that I could get a closer look at Katie Holmes' wonky eye, I was surprised to find myself sitting in something wet. I investigated potential sources of this wetness, such as perhaps a damp towel from my shower or a small leak in the ceiling, but none panned out. (And no, I didn't wet the bed, thank you, unless I've started not only bedwetting but also peeing from my feet.) I gave the spot a little no-contact sniff, but I couldn't really detect any odor that might serve to identify the source. I thought about calling the front desk, but I wasn't sure how that conversation would really go. ("Um, hi, I'm in Room 330, and I'm concerned someone may have ejaculated on my bed.") So I guess it will just have to remain a mystery. It's a lot like Easter Island in that way.
