It’s Dark in Here

Last week, I checked into a Mexican hotel. I had been traveling all day and was tired. When I opened the door to my room, I slipped the key card into the power slot and was greeted with dim illumination. Three of the light bulbs in the room were burned out – the sconce above the desk, the entryway light, and one of the two lights above the bed. No big deal, it was late, so I wrote a note for the maid and went to bed.

The next day I came back to the hotel after work. The note I’d left for the maid was gone but the three lights were still black. Worse, the second light above the bed was burned out, as well as one of the three in the bathroom. I called down to the front desk, and told them that I need the lights replaced. “Si, of course, Meester Hanson. Good night,” came the cheerful reply. I hung up the phone and went down to Applebee’s for dinner, but of course when I got back to the room it was still dark. Maybe tomorrow, I thought, and went to bed.

The next morning, I had to shave by the light of my cell phone, because the only light still working was the one above the toilet. Lucky thing there, because I hate to think what would have happened had that one failed as well. Angry now, I called to the front desk and reminded her that I still had lights in need of replacement. She assured me it would be done today. Just to be sure, I left the maid another note.

That night, I worked late, and of course my room was still dark when I got back. On Saturday morning I stubbed my toe trying to make my way like a blind man through the room, now dark like a crypt. I went back to bed until the sun came up and managed to prepare for the day by the sunlight coming in through the open blinds.

On my way to the plant, I stopped at the front desk, completely pissed off now, and told them if they didn’t fix the lights in my room, I would check out and find another hotel. They knew I was bluffing, because there are no other hotels, but were apologetic nonetheless.

On Friday night, we all went to dinner after work and I didn’t get back until late. By that time, there was nobody at the front desk who could speak English, but I tried to explain in broken Spanish that I need light bulbs, finally resorting to little diagrams and one syllable words. The smiling recepcionista said “Si, si” but I knew she didn’t understand. I went back to my dark room, defeated. As I prepared for bed, I banged my head on the bathroom door and whammed my knee on the nightstand. Tomorrow morning, I would just go to Wal-mart and buy my own damn light bulbs.

On Saturday morning, I woke to a loud knocking at my door. It was 6:05 AM. Feeling my way through the dark, I found my pants, got dressed, and opened the door. There stood a man in work clothes, a single light bulb in his hand.

Smiling, I closed the door and went back to bed.