On Diving

It was an exciting minivan ride--for most of it, the speedo was pegged toward redline and the variations in what would ordinarily be a smooth road were sending me airborne. And instead of the typical hard rock, the driver was playing odd instrumental electronica, so my earplugs stayed in their tube.

I'd made reservations for a cheap sounding place--great!

It was a dank basement room of the sort where bodies are found.

Place two showed me a great room, then said, "no, sorry, we don't have that.

Place three was triple the price but had a good looking room. I was tired and frustrated and took it.

It's a Thai place, so the only outlet is two-prong and I have to choose whether to plug in my computer, the TV, or the mini-fridge, and the air conditioning unit doesn't really cool the air, just blows it around, but que sera.

And then I was woken up by something making significant noise. It kept up until my head was clear enough to identify the light switch and peek at the sound: a rat in the garbage can.

Okay, I can deal with a rat. But, oh, wait, here are his five friends.

Hmm.

Remember, I'm in a bubble and they'll stay on that side of the room.

Solution: hang the garbage bag (with some smelly-good food wrappers) in the closet.

Which is where the rats gain access, via the mold-streaked hole rotted through by a long-forgotten leak.

Hmm.

Not liking this.

Better just go to sleep.

Nope, I don't live in a bubble. And it was burst most unpleasantly.

This is why you travel with earplugs: to cover up the sound of the rat causeway from the closet to the hallway.

Because what else is to be done? Throw a stink and get moved to another room with another causeway? Maybe the next one will have cockroaches, too!

Better to go to sleep and head elsewhere tomorrow.

And as long as we're on the subject, at least they're on the cuter end of the rat scale--I could be in Chiang Mai, where the rats get to be the size of chihuahuas, but with the beauty and lustre of a lifetime spent in Thai sewers.