I had just finished my “free” breakfast of home fries, fruit, sausage links, and a biscuit. It was a Sunday morning and the lobby of the hotel was bustling. Boston, country, and British accents wafted around me as I wiped the corners of my mouth with a small paper napkin. I put my fork down on my plate and hoisted the baby onto my lap where he bounced, gums bared, and watched the crowd. <\/p>\n
An old man’s voice rose above the din. “Sit down,” he pleaded, sounding annoyed. “Sit down<\/i>.”<\/p>\n
But his wife didn’t sit down. “Excuse me, everyone,” she said. “Today is my husband’s birthday and I would like it if you all sang ‘happy birthday’ to him. His name is Delbert.”<\/p>\n
And the people, gathered there in an interstate-adjacent hotel lobby, sang Delbert “happy birthday.” And then clapped. <\/p>\n
[][][]<\/p>\n
It took me a full two hours to decide that the toilet was, in fact, not flushing properly. I was in denial for a while and thought maybe it was just a slow-flushing, water-saving model, the kind that fills up to the rim of the bowl and then empties its contents over the next hour. As if there is such a thing. (Is there?) <\/p>\n
I realized with chagrin that what I had done was dump the biodegradable liner that held the poop into the toilet along with a handful of wipes, which I meant to drop into the wastebin. But I had already flushed the toilet so the damage was done. Clogged. I looked around for a plunger but this hotel was too classy to give me my own toilet-sucking tools. And now if I wanted anything to get through the bowl and down the pipe \u2014 and I mean anything \u2014 I was going to have to call the front desk and have someone come and plunge my toilet for me.<\/p>\n
So I got the baby ready and I got me ready and just before we stepped out into the sizzling sun, I pressed 0 on the more modern-looking of the room’s two phones. When the front desk clerk answered \u2014 this time a youngish black woman \u2014 I tried to phrase my problem with as much classiness as I could muster. “I don’t think our toilet is flushing properly.” (I can tell this by how there is shit floating in it after three flushes.)<\/p>\n
The clerk did not have much of a pokerface. “Ohhhhhh. Ewwwwww. Ummmmmm. Okay?” I instantly felt disgusting. Obviously I and my baby are the only humans who shit. How embarrassing. <\/p>\n
“We’re leaving the room now so you guys can come in whenever and do whatever you need to do.” She was quiet.<\/p>\n
When we came back that night, the toilet was sparkling and it flushed like you wouldn’t believe. <\/p>\n
[][][]<\/p>\n
Someone called my phone. A number I didn’t recognize. They didn’t leave a message. I’ve been getting a lot of those lately and that has the cumulative effect of pissing me off. Don’t just keep calling back; leave me a motherfucking message. So I called the number back. My phone told me I was dialing Helena, Ark.<\/p>\n
The lady who picked up had a Dirty South drawl I could barely decipher. <\/p>\n
“Hi, you called me? Your number was on my phone? I was just returning your call.”<\/p>\n
She acted offended, like I was intruding in her life, in her privacy. <\/p>\n
“WHO DIS?!” she demanded. <\/p>\n
“I’m Lindsey. YOU called ME.”<\/p>\n
Then she slurred something barely intelligible that more or less told me to fuck off, that she had the wrong number. <\/p>\n
“Okay, thanks!” I chirped. I waited until I knew we had hung up before I called her the C-word. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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