This is Amanda, reporting live from Italy, to explain a phenomenon that isn’t any better from across the sea. I’m sharing a bathroom with a random Italian woman and I feel compelled to elaborate on the woes of sharing said bathroom. Sure, I’m visiting the most beautiful cities in the world while living it up in hotel rooms/hostels by myself and eating my weight in Nutella cookies, prosciutto crudo, and eighty-seven forms of pasta alongside cappuccino and wine on wine on wine. But at the end of the day, I’m still sharing a bathroom. And sharing a bathroom is just such an unfortunate part of living.
1) Why is the floor wet? Is it that difficult to put the curtain inside the tub? How can you possibly angle the spout incorrectly when it shoots DIRECTLY DOWN ONTO YOUR HEAD? Also, towels are absorbent for a reason.
2) I’ve needed to pee for an hour and you’re still in there. Why are you still in there, please leave, why are you flushing the toilet seven thousand times, I’m alarmed. The water is rushing and I’m wondering if you burst a pipe or if you drowned and I should get help from the front desk or an ambulance or something. I don’t even know how to call an Italian ambulance. Oh wait now the water stopped, oh wait the water is back on. Lady, I need to pee and the rushing water isn’t helping this situation; soon enough I’m going to resort to the sink or a tree or your bed.
3) Where is the toilet paper? How can one tiny woman use EVERY. SINGLE. ROLL. OF TOILET PAPER. in the course of 24 hours? Are you ill? Perhaps you should ration out your paper more or maybe rethink what you’re consuming on a daily basis. Also, I need toilet paper and it’s your fault, and this is a dilemma.
Also, maybe I shouldn’t have drank an entire liter of Coca-Cola and three cappuccinos while eating half a bag of Goldfish, a sleeve of Nutella cookies, and a very large cone of gelato. I’ll take the fall for that one.
Signed,
Woes from a hostel bathroom
Amanda Matteo is the Editor in Chief of The Rutgers Review.