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Bryan did indeed come get me last night, though it hardly turned out as I expected. We had just sat down on a couch in the empty living room to contemplate the apparently bad movie no one was watching, and were discussing the fact that no one was watching it. Meghan and Karen came barrelling in and demanded to know whether we knew anything about plumbing, with Ben close behind. Stephan was nowhere to be seen. Ben exclaimed incredulously that there was an inch of water in the bathroom, didn't we know? Bryan inquired with a hint of panic whether it was HIS bathroom, and, assured that no, it was Ben's and Stephan's bathroom in which this inundation had been wrought, sprang up with alacrity to see the sight and render his assistance.
I must admit, it was a daunting vision, and Ben hadn't exaggerated. A steady spray of water gushed from a joint beneath the toilet tank where a knob was conspicuously missing, and only the massive dam of towels (every towel in the house, plus a brave shirt or two) kept the deluge on the tile behind the threshold. The intimidating miniature waves caused by every footstep seemed determined to make it across to the hardwood floor beyond the door, but Bryan started a steady bailing-by-dustpan into the bathtub with one hand, his other occupied holding his phone to his ear in the desperate hope that the landlord would answer and tell them where the water main was. He passed the dustpan off to me, and I sat there on an overturned bucket, bailing for my life, while he and Ben went questing for the main and Stephan begged frantically for help from the night shift at the hotel across the street, which owns this house. Meghan called her boyfriend and he did a stint under the tank, trying to close uncloseable valves while I tried not to hit his feet with the bailing dustpan, before they found the main and the gushing miraculously ceased.
It took some more calls and a cloud of anxious anticipation before a plumber could be found to replace the responsible part, and everyone was rather drained (excuse the pun) by the time the bathroom floor was restored to mere dampness and the plumber had finished his work. It was interesting to note the differences in reaction among the three roommates affected by this small disaster. Stephan first panicked, then played to his strengths (or at least away from his weaknesses) and went for the authorities, then sulked a bit; Ben panicked less, did what he could, and gathered help; Bryan assessed how directly the problem affected him, and promptly flung himself into action, doing everything he could think of, all at once.
After the post-adrenlaine exhaustion set in, I crashed in a chair. Everyone else crashed, too. I slept here again, having borrowed some shorts to sleep in, rather than my soaked pants. I must say, it was an exciting night.
I must admit, it was a daunting vision, and Ben hadn't exaggerated. A steady spray of water gushed from a joint beneath the toilet tank where a knob was conspicuously missing, and only the massive dam of towels (every towel in the house, plus a brave shirt or two) kept the deluge on the tile behind the threshold. The intimidating miniature waves caused by every footstep seemed determined to make it across to the hardwood floor beyond the door, but Bryan started a steady bailing-by-dustpan into the bathtub with one hand, his other occupied holding his phone to his ear in the desperate hope that the landlord would answer and tell them where the water main was. He passed the dustpan off to me, and I sat there on an overturned bucket, bailing for my life, while he and Ben went questing for the main and Stephan begged frantically for help from the night shift at the hotel across the street, which owns this house. Meghan called her boyfriend and he did a stint under the tank, trying to close uncloseable valves while I tried not to hit his feet with the bailing dustpan, before they found the main and the gushing miraculously ceased.
It took some more calls and a cloud of anxious anticipation before a plumber could be found to replace the responsible part, and everyone was rather drained (excuse the pun) by the time the bathroom floor was restored to mere dampness and the plumber had finished his work. It was interesting to note the differences in reaction among the three roommates affected by this small disaster. Stephan first panicked, then played to his strengths (or at least away from his weaknesses) and went for the authorities, then sulked a bit; Ben panicked less, did what he could, and gathered help; Bryan assessed how directly the problem affected him, and promptly flung himself into action, doing everything he could think of, all at once.
After the post-adrenlaine exhaustion set in, I crashed in a chair. Everyone else crashed, too. I slept here again, having borrowed some shorts to sleep in, rather than my soaked pants. I must say, it was an exciting night.