When I decided to have a shower before going to bed, I’d never have thought I’d get myself into such a hilarious situation. Well, I should say it was rather embarrassing to be true, but even so I managed to break into fits of laughter thinking of the fix I had to settle.

The bathroom was just across the corridor from my room, so I chose to cross this distance stealthily without taking the trouble of wearing my trousers. After all, putting them on to cross the corridor, taking them off for the shower, putting them on again for the corridor and taking them off to go to bed seemed nonsense. So I peeked out, saw that the corridor was quiet and dimly lit, and I got away with a quick hop into the bathroom.

 

The bathroom door had no lock, so I pushed the door to, making sure it was securely shut. Whoever would come would find resistance in opening it from outside and would hear the shower water running, so no problem.

The large rusting bath with paws stood on one side of the room. I stepped into it and struggled to to open the water turning a brass spike where the tap had once stood.

I had my usual cold evening shower, dried my body and slipped on my t-shirt, ready to cross over to my room. But the bathroom door had no handle and I’d shut it so hard that there was no grip to get hold of it, so I thought I’d use the room key to pry it open. Indeed, the door moved, but my key snapped in two. I suddenly realised I was locked out of my room and would have to go down to the reception to ask for a spare key. The problem was I had no trousers on!

After some pondering, I stole along the gloomy corridor and from the first landing I peeped down into the hall where a stern old gentleman was sitting on a sofa. Try as I might, I didn’t dare to break into his state of tranquil meditation in my improper outfit, so I turned about.

Five minutes later, I mustered up all my nerve and made a second attempt. Luckily, the man had vanished, so I slid down the steps into the full neon light and jumped behind the desk just before the receptionist had time to raise her gaze. Protected as I was on the front, I felt rather uncovered from behind, but after all there was nobody around.

I announced to the employee I had broken my key and would like the spare one. It seemed rather matter-of-fact to me, but I was met with a cry of deep distress: “This is a big problem, big indeed. We have no double. What shall we do?”, she said in the most afflicted tone of voice.

She nevertheless took out a bunch of keys from I don’t know where and we went upstairs. By now my partial nudity was fully exposed, but it didn’t seem to matter much to anybody except myself. We stood in front of my room on the first floor fumbling with every key in turn. Even when it was obvious that one didn’t turn, the woman would not desist and tinkered on, to my serious apprehension that the lock would be spoilt forever.

After a quarter of an hour, with my legs that hadn’t grown any more comfortable in their nakedness, I had lost all hope of ever getting back to my room that night. However, a flash of inspiration struck the woman and she extracted one last key out of her bosom. I was disappointed to learn that this secret hiding-place had been reserved to what was only the key to the office, and not to a more intriguing place. However, it miraculously slid into the hole, turned smoothly and opened the lock.

I was let in, but not given the key because, naturally enough, there wasn’t a double to the office key either. So I had to push some furniture against the door for a security closure.

Through the broken shutter, the gentle breeze that had caressed my skin while I was strolling in the garden an hour before, still produced a gentle rustle in the foliage of the majestic trees, shaking every single leaf. I was back into my room, next to all my possessions and, above all, my trousers.

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