Idlebones

The Wrong Door

I believe I had my proudest moment last week in a B&B in Cork City last week.

The Room I had had an ensuite that has another door out into the corridor, so
that the bathroom could be used as a communal bathroom when needed.
Of course, not having been informed, I didn’t realise that the
bathroom, therefore, had an extra door.

At about 4 in the morning I got up to use the toilet and wandered into
the bathroom buck naked. Not thinking, I turned around and went into
another door, closing it behind me before I realised i was in the corridor.

Bad enough that I wasn’t wearing a damn thing; I was a little worse
for wear after a few beers, and so was a little confused. I turned
around and saw the main door to the bedroom, and tried the handle.
Locked from the inside.

Jesus.

After about 10 minutes of weighing up my options, I went downstairs
and opened the front door and went for a whizz in the bushes while
groups of students walked by on their way home from the nightclubs.
(The B&B would have to be opposite the gates to UCC) all the while
trying to figure out just how I would explain this one to the Guards.

Back inside, I decided to hunt out the owners living area and find
some blankets, as I was clearly about to spend the night sleeping in
the corridor. I found the kitchen and set about finding the airing
cupboard.

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Of Course I had to pick up the odd family photo to admire the
owners daughter, especially the picture of her by the computer in what
looked like climbing gear half way up a foreign mountain. Very pretty. Thats when I
noticed the little red light above the monitor.

And also when I noticed that it was attached to a web cam.

Fearing the worst, I knocked the mouse a little to wake the screen up,
and was soon face to face with myself, being recorded by some motion
detection security software. Buck naked, in their kitchen, holding a picture of their
daughter.

Oh arse.

I legged it.

In my best Basil Fawlty, British sitcom way, I looked for a solution
and found the stupid one, and just legged it.

I found the airing cupboard and pulled out a duvet and a
pillow and headed back upstairs with it wrapped around me. Outside the
bedroom door, I propped myself up against the wall opposite the
bedroom door and covered myself with the duvet. After about half an
hour of forehead beating, staring angrily at the locked door before me, I started
becoming aware of the other door along the corridor, just up from it.
The door with the word “Bathroom” written across the front on a little
metal plaque. It was the bathroom I had walked out of earlier, but I
couldn’t remember that plaque on the door when I had tried to get back
in again. I looked at the door, then back at the bedroom door, the
back at the little plaque again.

Oh for christs sake.

I tried the door, and it was of course, open. In my ever so
slightly inebreated state I had mixed the two doors up, and hadn’t locked myself out afterall.

The next morning, I didn’t wait around for breakfast; just left the
money on the sideboard and left without saying a word. Swiftly.

I somehow doubt I’ll be using the particular B&B again.