THIS IS NOT A TIRE

October 10th, 2009

We didn’t have any control over whom we roomed with while on the road. Three to a room, and seniority always took the single bed. I was a sophomore and sharing the room with a Junior and a Freshman. Both were not high on my ‘like list’ at the time, and it only changed for one of the lucky ladies in the years to come. Fortunately, what made it bearable was knowing the feelings were mutual. My college years were full of agitation, frustration and low levels of anger all the way around, from no good reason that I can discern at this point ten years later. My nick name was Penguin and I often needed my feathers to be smoothed down as they found themselves ruffled and out of place. We three played soccer for our university, and were constantly shuffled around the nation to different soccer fields. My Junior year we traveled to Europe for a pre-season game. I refer to it as my worst euro trip ever. Picture 20 girls dressed in florescent green fleecy sweaters with gold text on the back, black fleecy pants, and bright orange sneakers; oh did we stand out. Not to mention being in the beer capital of the world and not having a sip. These trips were accompanied by rules to keep order and control over our movements when not playing soccer, including with whom we roomed.

This particular trip we were in Texas for a number of matches and Bridget, the freshman, had gone out to dinner with her family. Bridget was a beautiful blonde Texan. She stood about 5’10′ and had lovely breasts that no man could miss. She carried herself knowing that she was the prize that she was (and continues to be). She was smart and tough as nails on the field, which frankly, contributed to my disliking her. Missy and I returned to our second floor extending-living apartment hotel room and had frozen dinners. These meals were provided as punishment for our poor play earlier that night. We both showered without a hitch, not to mention using all the full size towels. Missy fell asleep quickly and I was not far behind when I was woken by knocks at the door. Bridget had returned to take her rightful spot on the other side of the bed that I had made warm. She tippie-toed to the bathroom to have a shower before calling it a night… rules remember?

I heard the water come on, while I rolled over attempting to find that same comfortable spot on my side of the bed. I shut out the light. Then there was a distinct change in the sound of the water. Was she taking a bath? Who bathes in hotels? Especially one like this? Moments later the smallest voice called out for help. “Lisa, can you help me”? I rose to check out the situation. It did not sound like a ‘can you scrub my back for me’ cry (which I’m not familiar with either but I feel as though I could discern between the two). Leisurely I made my way to toward the sounds of rushing water. My eyes jumped open when the horizontal trajectory of water shooting straight out of wall toward the back of the tub was revealed. Burning hot water spraying everywhere. The source of the deluge was coming from what was once the hot water knob. The handle was in Bridget’s right hand. She was using a hand towel to cover up her ‘good bits,’ but was otherwise completely naked and clearly not comfortable with being so. The hand towel was doing little good, other than keeping her left hand from aiding in returning the tap to its rightful place on the wall.

Jumping into action, we had to stop the rushing water! How did this happen? I asked through my own laughter. Her reply was a mixture of “does it really matter now”, and “I couldn’t tell which way was off”. The next thing she knew she was holding the handle in her hand and Niagara Falls found its way to Texas. I took the knob from her and started trying to force the handle back into the grooves. The only water finding its way into the tub was as a result of it smashing into the wall running parallel with the faucet. I found that this wasn’t a very effective way to fill the tub as a majority of the water was flowing on to the floor just on the other side of the bath. The power behind the water was too much to over come; not to mention the scolding sensation during each attempt. The burning sensation made me think my skin was going to peal back off my bones. Finally after we both had tried a number of fruitless times to return the handle to its rightful place I called the game and said, “I think we are going to need some help.” I went into the room, still no movement from Missy, and proceeded to call our coach, after curfew no less. No answer. Called our assistant coach, again no answer. Hummmmm, perhaps we should try the trainer? In retrospect, what was she going to do, tape it like an ankle? Finally, and most likely the brightest idea we had had all night, we called the front desk. The water was so loud it was hard to hear him, and also speak at a level that wold not disturb the slumber of our roommate. Who new driving water in a confined space would be so deafening? I explained to the front desk guy what was taking place in our unit. He seemed rather disinterested and said that it would be really expensive to bring a plumber out at this hour. He followed that statement up with reassuring comments that the plumber would be out first thing in the morning. I pleaded with him to come out and see the room and then make that judgment call. We have Niagara Falls in our Room! But he remained firm. At that point I put the phone down and Bridget and I began laughing at the situation. The room was beginning to feel like a sauna due to the volume of hot water being pumped into the room. We pulled the door closed, which did little for the sound, but it made us feel better. We made our way to the bed.

We woke to a soggy floor and a rain forest feel in the air. The carpet from the bathroom to half way out into the room was water logged. Missy, who missed all the action, was confused and slightly disgusted by the state of affairs. We all managed to prep for breakfast next to the falls. We needed a sign that stated “slicker and galoshes beyond this point” when brushing our teeth. As promised, a plumber arrived at our door first thing in the morning as we were heading out to team breakfast. Three twists of his wrench the bathroom was silenced, Niagara Falls returned to the boarder of Canada and the US. However, the hotel faced costs that easily could have been prevented. The room below us was also flooded and would need to be completely renovated.

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