Common Scents: Shower-Free Day 2

This morning began just like any other until my attempt at stepping into the shower was followed by a series of swear words. As the ice cold water struck my skin, my body instantly went into a state of shock. Like a freshman girl at a frat party, I had made an irreversible mistake and began gasping uncontrollably as I sought refuge in my towel. My lack of sleep and lingering sickness caused me to entirely forget that we are still without hot water, and we’ll continue to be in this position for another 5 days. My frustration was only further invigorated when I realized the three eggs I had whipped for the frying pan had only the rubbish bin for a destination instead of my empty stomach. I didn’t like the alternative, but desperate times call for desperate measures and I loaded my shower shoes, and headed off to work.

No one likes to shower at work, but even more so, no one likes to be ‘the guy’ who showers at work. This was my exact thought as I sauntered into the NBC Universal elevator. I wanted to hide the fact I hadn’t showered in nearly 2 days, and thought if I played it cool maybe I could fly under the radar. The only problem with my plan was the three ‘firsts’ my office coworkers would have to overlook if I was to harbor any pride as I walked into the office: 1) I was wearing a hat over horribly weaselie hair 2) my Burberry Touch wasn’t masking my unkempt odor, but it was breeding with it to create one invincible stench 3) I was carrying a huge gym bag.

The hair went unnoticed, the smell was blamed on lunch remnants in the rubbish bin, but the gym bag led quips from traveling, to trying out with Beckham. We all had a good laugh at my unfortunate misfortunes and after several hours of ‘work,’ I mustered up my courage, waved good-bye to all I knew, and braved the stairwell two flights to the 3rd floor locker room.

There’s no way to hide that you’re going to use the shower. They’re always tucked away in the back of the locker room forcing you to walk past clads of judging eyes. Half way through the endless mile as I waited to hear “Dead man walking,” I made it to the shower only to discover it wasn’t nearly as bad as I assumed. In fact, aside from the fear that the stainless steel door and curtain were the only things keeping me from possibly getting raped, the work-shower was a fairly positive experience. Granted, I’d much rather shower in my apartment where my feet can touch the floor sans a quarter inch of rubber and I’m free from the fear of having to call another man ‘daddy,’ but in my current situation the work shower was more than sufficient. I don’t think I’ll have to use the work shower again but if I do, like a three-legged dog sniffing a lawnmower… I’ll know what to expect.

Common Scents: Shower-Free Day 1

I smell. I’m not stating that I have the capability to sense an aroma; I’m stating that there is a certain aroma about me. Its not the smell of success, nor is it a subtle hint of Drakkar Noir common about me in the 5th grade. It’s the smell of sweat, the smell of man… a lot of it. It’s the smell that is the direct product of not showering. Its not that I’m against bathing, or boycotting cleanliness in the name of a cause, it’s the fact that my gas has been unexpectedly turned off and I have no hot water.

This discovery was made earlier this morning as I stared at my shower like a dog learning physics. After nearly 15 minutes of waiting for the water to change from ice cold to anything bearable, I realized the pilot light must have gone out and I turned off the water to investigate the water heater. Warning: If you don’t deal well with stress, or you still have a desire to remain on earth, don’t attempt to relight a pilot light. It could possibly be the scariest thing done in the home outside of living in matrimony.

Relighting the pilot light is not a difficult job in theory, but the warnings manufacturers place on the water heaters are enough to question mortality. The instructions for relighting the pilot are there, but they’re sprinkled with warnings about how improper procedure can result in an explosion. This thought of melted flesh left me with a hard decision; call for help and remain filthy or risk it all and get that shower. As I whipped the sweat from my brow and caught a hint of my under-arm, the choice was clear and moments later I was re-reading instructions.

After several failed attempts, and nerves like a bomb technician cranking a jack in the box, my roommate Jeff rediscovered an invoice he found taped to our front door. Sure enough it was a bill from the gas company claiming that our service had been terminated due to insufficient funds (ironically remembered AFTER I had already ‘risked my life’). A phone call to our gas provider resulted in a less than favorable explanation: our former roommate who had been paying the bill online, neglected to mention they only sent notices to him via email, leaving Jeff and I completely unaware of any sort of fee. Without sufficient payment, the gas company had no choice but to terminate our service leaving Jeff and I without hot water or a working oven.

The real thrill came when I made an appointment to have our service turned back on. Of course I was making the call on Friday, the day before the weekend, so I painfully assumed they might not make it over until Monday. As if I was Dominique Wilkins, and the operator a brash Michael Jordan, she picked up the ball and took it to a new level. “Sir, the soonest we can return your service is going to be Thursday afternoon.” Thursday afternoon, literally 6 days away. Like selling Manhattan for a trunk full of treasures, I had gotten screwed. 6 days without a personal shower. 6 days without a working oven. 6 days with little to no dignity. 6 days of awesome stories.

“Who will survive, and what will be left of them?”