I was looking for clean towels. Due to an unfortunate mishap involving a quart of chicken curry and a container of wonton soup, I had used every towel in the hotel room cleaning up a monumental mess. I had called the front desk three times but still had no clean towels. Since a good portion of my dinner had landed on me, I needed towels so I could take a shower and go out to buy more chicken curry. I took matters into my own hands.
The sign on the door said “Employees Only” but it was not locked, so looking over my shoulder, I entered the housekeeping closet. I hurriedly grabbed some towels and as I turned to go back into the hallway, I caught sight of the bulletin board by the service elevator. I stopped in my tracks to see the three large, colorful posters conspicuously displayed there.
“Bedbugs are EVERYONE’s problem!” said one, in big, red letters. The second showed what looked like a tiny cockroach with a blindfold and a cigarette, standing in front of a firing squad of hotel maids. “BEDBUGS: TAKE NO PRISONERS!” it thundered. The third poster said “Vermin is no laughing matter!” a sentiment that bothered me almost as much as the faulty grammar.
I returned to my room and threw the towels on the bed. I had heard that bedbugs were a growing problem in American hotels, but I assumed the problem was confined to shabby flophouses that rented by the hour. I never dreamed bedbugs existed in hotels with mini bars and pillowtop mattresses. I figured that if a hotel had a formalized bedbug eradication program, it must indicate an immediate and awful crisis.
Obsessing, I took a shower, dried myself with the towels that had been on the bed and went to buy more dinner. I ate my dinner, answered my email, watched Jay Leno and scratched my head, bewildered that Jay Leno is still on the air. I went to bed, absently scratching an itch behind my left knee as I nodded off.
I woke up at 2 am in a cold sweat, itching from head to toe. I then made the unfortunate decision to go to Wikipedia to learn about bedbugs. The more I read the itchier I got and by the time I got to the phrases “intense raised red welts” and “bedbug alarm syndrome” (which occurs when the bedbugs get annoyed) I was itching like I had been covered with honey and tied to an anthill.
After a sleepless night, I walked into my meeting the next morning twitching and jerking like a rabid dog. “What is your problem?” whispered my friend Sylvia, who was also staying at the hotel. Her eyes got wide as I leaned over and whispered in her ear.
Word travels fast. During the midmorning break Sylvia was scratching her head with both hands while she conversed with some other attendees staying at the hotel. By lunchtime I saw respectable men surreptitiously scratching their nether regions while well-coifed matrons were rubbing their backsides against potted palms in the lobby. During the afternoon session, complete strangers were scratching each other’s backs and by the end of the day it looked like we were attending a St Vitus Dance support group.
I flew home that night. Curiously, as soon as I was out of the hotel I lost all desire to scratch, and I never did get any raised red welts. In retrospect, perhaps I over-reacted, but as I always say, vermin is no laughing mater.