Over Christmas Mark and stayed at a beautiful resort. The room was fantastic. The four poster bed fun to jump on. The 3rd floor balcony nice to lob water balloons from. All good, right?
Well, except for the Terror Toilet.
This is the toilet scary dreams are made of. The kind of toilet that reminds you why you ALWAYS flush before you use it. Just to make sure. The South American cousin of the toilet in Trainspotting.
Every day for three days we had to call maintenance to come fix it. By the end of day two I had become afraid of it. I decided it might be safer to go to the bathroom by the pool. I shot shaky glances at it out of the corner of my eye. Swore at it under my breath. Became convinced that evil gremlins living in the pipes below it where rejecting our toilet paper.
Finally, on day 4 Mark snapped and we got our room changed. The first thing I did? Test flushed the new toilet. And guess what? I worked. My short love affair with the pool side bathroom had ended. And neither of us was sorry.
No comments:
Post a Comment