Back in the 70's the cool thing in hotels was coffee makers. Even dumpy hotels were instantly made cool by the addition of Mr. Coffee. We loved it when Nana and Poppa Dave would come visit us in California~ they always arrived with open arms and a car full of Nana's home made cookies that she'd made weeks before and quickly froze in preparation of the drive down from Walla Walla. She had serious Baking OCD.
So, one time they came to visit and when they arrived at the hotel they were overjoyed that their room came with an instant coffee maker. Mom loaded us into the big blue station wagon and drove us over to see our grandparents and the coffee maker. Maybe coffee makers were a big deal before the 70's but that is as far back as I remember anyone making a big deal about them being in hotel rooms. And it is as far back as I remember because I was only 10 years old. We ran into the java scented hotel room and I rushed into the bathroom to see the coffee maker nobody could stop talking about. The coffee maker was on fire. It was ON FIRE. It had also set the towels hanging directly above it on fire. I backed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and announced in my bad-mood- ten year old voice that the BATHROOM WAS ON FIRE. Here's the thing: I rarely talked as a kid. I didn't really have much to say and there was just no competing with my siblings. So, you'd think that when the silent child finally spoke people would turn their heads in amazement and LISTEN. No, they didn't. They kept on talking. I said it louder and was told to be quiet, the adults were talking. I said it again HEY, THE BATHROOM IS ON FIRE! IT'S TIME TO STOP, DROP AND ROLL! Still, no response. So I said fuck it and started to leave on my own. I was not going to be burned to a crisp because these people could not stop talking. Really, even at that young age I was swearing. Nobody heard me anyway.
Finally, when the room filled with smoke everyone got a clue and rushed out. My Nana rewarded me with my own pack of Big Red gum. She had heard me but didn't really believe me because no way could a coffee pot ever kill anyone. Since that day, I have been terrified of my bathroom catching on fire. And of coffee pots.
This morning during my week of freedom, I decided to replace a burned out bulb in the light fixture above the mirror in my bathroom. The fixture had 3 75-watt bulbs. My fear of fire told me to replace the burned out bulb with a 60-watt, just to be safe. I got on the ladder, screwed the light bulb in and all was well. Let there be light! I leaned over to turn the shower on and the light bulb exploded (or maybe it imploded) and tiny bits of glass went everywhere. How could such a small bulb have so much glass? There was glass and smoke. Lots of SMOKE! And the fire alarm went off! AAAAAHHHHH!!! Whew, no flames that I could see. I turned the light off, and got the hell out of there. Now I can't get the broken bulb out of the fixture and am afraid to turn the light on.
I think I need some gum.
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