A bunch of years ago my husband and I were traveling through India. It was late May so it was stinking hot and the first thing we did as soon as we hit a hotel was to take a shower to wash the sweat and dirt of the day away.
We arrived at this one hotel and I won the toss for first shower so I stripped off and got under the water while my husband went to explore.
I was luxuriating in the feeling of getting clean when I heard someone pounding on the room door. “I’m in the shower!”, I shouted. The pounding continued. “I’m in the shower!”, I shouted again, thinking, What the hell – who ever it is can surely hear the water running, so why don’t they go away. The pounding continued. Now I was pissed. I turned the water off and shouted for a third time, “I’m in the shower!” but no matter, the pounding continued.
“Fine,” I thought. Right. I walked to the room door, threw open the door and said, “I was having a shower. What the hell do you want?”
The young Indian guy at the door, a hotel employee, stood frozen with his mouth hanging open. “What?”, I said. The look of panic on his face told me that being confronted by an angry, soaking wet naked lady, obviously hadn’t been covered in the Hotel Employee’s Manual.
“Whatever,” I said, and slammed the door in his face. When my husband finally returned we had a good laugh at the thought of the hotel guy and the story he was probably telling down in the kitchen.