May 1996 (continued):
Essential Road Warrior's Tool
As you’ll recall from last week’s exciting episode, I was in Leipzig, Germany…while my luggage was somewhere else.
The only clothing I had was what I’d been wearing for two days (since boarding a plane in Los Angeles).
Safely in my hotel room, I stripped off my very grimy clothes and set about washing them in the sink. Doing so, I felt very self-sufficient. I knew if I hung the wet clothing from various racks in the bathroom, they would dry overnight.
I was mistaken. Leaving wet clothing hanging in a hotel bathroom overnight insures that in the morning you will have a bathroom full of still-wet clothing.
No need to panic. Drying my clothes required just a little bit of common sense and ingenuity.
Aha! I would “dry” them by pressing them with the hot iron. After all, in days long past I had used a steam iron to press my shirts. This was the same principle, except that these garments were a bit wetter than a shirt that has just been spritzed with water.
To my shock and dismay, I learned it is not a good idea to use an iron on wet clothing. Applying a hot iron to, for example, a wet pair of socks, produces a wet pair of socks with scalded markings on the outside.
Now I was starting to panic. Still no word from Lufthansa and I was worse off then the previous night…when at least I could have worn very dirty yet dry clothing.
Then I spotted it, in the bathroom above one corner of the sink. I never notice these devices in hotel room, because I never use them. But it was my last hope: A small, hand-held hair dryer.
It took me about 90 minutes to complete the job, but finally my clothes were dry.
My problems were not yet over, though. The clothes I had traveled in were much more casual (e.g., flannel shirt) than the clothes I had planned to wear as a guest speaker at the Media Fair. My “good” clothes were still lost somewhere between London and Leipzig.
I knew what I needed to do: I had to go shopping.
For clothes.
In a city where the shopkeepers do not speak English.
I don’t shop.
I don’t know anything about clothing.
I don’t speak German.
What I needed was someone who speaks English and likes to shop.
In a novel but ultimately futile attempt to find such a person, I called a few local radio stations. But any of their English-speaking employees were already at the Media Fair.
So I called the Fair’s organizer, Dr. Monika Friedrich, and explained my plight to her.
“You need WHAT?” she asked.
“Someone to take me shopping. Preferably a young woman who knows something about men’s clothing.”
“Hmmm,” replied Dr. Friedrich, promising to call me back shortly.
A few minutes later, she called to say she was sending one of the Fair’s staff members to take me to a department store.
It was now 12:45PM. I was scheduled to speak at 4:00PM. That would not leave very much time to go shopping, return to my hotel room, put on the new clothes, and get to the Leipziger Messe before 4:00.
While waiting for the young woman to arrive, I decided to shave…using the tiny can of shaving cream and the disposable razor the hotel so conveniently had included among the room’s amenities.
Although I never had used one before, I’d always thought disposable razors were a clever, handy idea. And so inexpensive. Why hadn’t I used one before?
So I lathered up and began shaving, only to be interrupted by the telephone ringing. It was Lufthansa; they had found my luggage in London, now it was in Leipzig, and they would have it delivered to me within an hour.
This meant I would not have to go shopping after all!
Elated, I went back to bathroom….and saw the blood on my neck. It was at that moment that I learned why I never use disposable razors.
