The Perils of Tiny Shampoo

Staying at a hotel seems like it should be exciting. And for a brief moment in time, it is.

You step into that room and it looks so clean and tidy. There are tiny soaps and the cutest little bottle of shampoo you ever did see.

Olive standing in a bathroom, holding a bottle of shampoo and saying "The cutest shampoo I ever did see!"

But the thrill doesn’t last long.

You sit down on the bed.

And then stand up again, recalling the frightening realities a UV light could reveal about just how clean that bed really is.

You forgot your eReader and there’s nothing to watch on TV – no, you’re not going to pay $24 to watch a movie you can stream at home on Netflix. Maybe you could watch Netflix on your laptop, except the rate for half an hour of internet connection is more than the price of a single movie, and now your stomach is grumbling.

You haven’t eaten since before you got on the plane and that $8 bag of sweets at the airport really didn’t hit the spot anyway.

You’re going to be hungry for a whole lot longer, because, despite staying in the cheapest hotel you could find (that still has a private bathroom), the price of a kid’s meal is more than the price of a movie too.

Basically, you’re sad.

Olive sitting on a bed and looking sad, saying "I am sad."

You don’t sleep well. The couple next door are having way too much of a good time, and by 3am you’ve convinced yourself that the group of youths across the hall are going to break in and murder you if you close your eyes.

In the morning, you hop in the shower.

It’s fun using the tiny shampoo, even though you can feel it shredding the life from your hair.

But that moment of fun ends too.

The shower door won’t open.

It’s jammed.

You’re trapped in the shower.

You pull and push and tug and hammer.

You panic and cry – just a bit, because you always figured you’d die in some horribly embarrassing scenario, but it never quite crossed your mind that you might die naked and alone… in a hotel shower.

Olive freaking out in a shower.

Eventually you realise it could be so much worse than that. Someone – the cleaning staff probably – could find you naked and alone in the shower while you’re still alive.

So you push and pull and tug again.

You slam your body against the door until it breaks off and crashes to the ground.

You’re free.

You leave the door on the floor, and you don’t mention it to the staff at the front desk.

Later, you comfort yourself that this sort of thing probably happens to everyone.

Author: Stuffed Olive

My awesomeness intimidates some people, others just point and laugh.

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  1. I love this! Apart from busting the shower door, which I’ve thankfully never done, this sounds like my every experience at a hotel 🙂

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  2. Oh my goodness – you crack me up but you also prompt me to confess my obsession with those teeny tiny soaps, shampoo and conditioner and my favourite the sewing kit (ever since I was a girl guide I have been searching for tiny sewing kits). As soon as I open my hotel room door, I rush to the bathroom to check the supplies then I swoop to the desk and check the stationery and pens. I stash everything in my bag and make sure the room attendant leaves more for the next day, I have even been known to leave them a note or accost them in the corridor to make sure they know what I need. When I return home I look at my hoard lovingly and then squish it into a drawer for emergencies, you never know when the zombie apocalypse will happen – I will be the buttoned up zombie with the cleanest hair.

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