Last November, my friend Jamie and I were visiting Venice with a large group of kids from our overseas program. Being the socialites we are, we decided to be the two that didn't volunteer to share with anyone else and just have a two-person room.
We carried our bags back to the room and tried to figure turn on the heater so the temperature would go up from "below freezing" to "slighty below freezing" while we were out exploring.
When we returned that night, it was not much better. I messed around with the heater a while longer and finally got it to kick on. We were cold enough we just turned it on high, and then we ran the shower and sink on pure hot, letting the steam from the adjoining bathroom roll into our tiny bedroom. Then, we did what we do best: turned on Italian MTV, pulled out some trashy European magazines, and got under the covers. We eventually turned off the water, but left the heater on high, figuring it wouldn't ever really get warm enough to matter anyway.
Sometime in the middle of the night I awoke and sat straight up, gasping for air. At about the same time, Jamie did the same thing. The room was so hot we couldn't breathe.
I crawled, glassesless, over to the heating unit. It read 90 degrees. I searched for a way to turn it down, but my blindness, the sleepy state and exhaustion I was in combined to make that an impossible feat.
"Just turn it off!" I heard Jamie gasp from somewhere behind me. I found a switch and flipped it, crawled back into bed, and prayed for relief.
When we awoke the next morning, we were shivering. God bless America and its efficient heating and cooling systems.
1 comment:
hahaha, i hope there are more random memories to come. this was great!
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