T.A.R, Part Two
Shower Engineering
My experience with hotel showers worldwide is not a particularly good one. The heating apparatus (when there was one) for my showers in Central America was basically an electrical appliance strapped to the shower pipe that simply got really hot when you turned it on, relying on the second law of thermodynamics to actually do the water-heating. It did work fairly well, though whenever I bumped against the shower head I was treated to a mild electric shock. Frankly, I am surprised more people aren't electrocuted outright.
On the North American side, my current theory is that the majority of hotel construction in the United States (or at least Hotel Bathroom Shower Construction) is dominated by a shadowy syndicate of dwarves. I swear, no one over five feet tall can go into a hotel shower and expect to get their hair wet without extreme squatting. Not that I have anything against squatting in principle. It's just not something I like to do while naked and wet. It's unseemly.
And so we come to the United Kingdom, where I would have expected showers to have the same "lowness" problem, since most of the doorways I walked through were designed for the average pint-sized Englishman of 1620. But no. I actually had very little need to squat, once I actually got the shower working.
And that's the thing. You don't normally think of a shower as having a "user interface," but these did. You expect something vaguely analogous to the sink controls, a knob controlling hot or cold, and maybe a lever to switch from tub faucet to shower spray. Nope. The showers I used (when they actually were showers and not some kind of bathtub/hose hack) offered a control mechanism consisting of no less than four knobs, two levers, a pull chain, and a toggle switch. And often more than that.
What's worse, there appear to be competing factions of shower control apparatus manufacturers, so what one lever does in one shower might not do the same thing in another. And then I have the singularly idiotic habit of disrobing completely and standing in the path of the water before I even begin the process of puzzling through the thing's operation. It made for some exhilirating mornings.
I would detail to you what each knob and lever did, if I had ever figured it out. I just turned and flicked and pulled and switched until the shower and I came to a compromise.
What I still can't shake, though, is the impression that if I had figured out the right sequence of knobs and switches, I might have been able to open a secret doorway to the labs of MI6.
Or Narnia, at the very least.
My experience with hotel showers worldwide is not a particularly good one. The heating apparatus (when there was one) for my showers in Central America was basically an electrical appliance strapped to the shower pipe that simply got really hot when you turned it on, relying on the second law of thermodynamics to actually do the water-heating. It did work fairly well, though whenever I bumped against the shower head I was treated to a mild electric shock. Frankly, I am surprised more people aren't electrocuted outright.
On the North American side, my current theory is that the majority of hotel construction in the United States (or at least Hotel Bathroom Shower Construction) is dominated by a shadowy syndicate of dwarves. I swear, no one over five feet tall can go into a hotel shower and expect to get their hair wet without extreme squatting. Not that I have anything against squatting in principle. It's just not something I like to do while naked and wet. It's unseemly.
And so we come to the United Kingdom, where I would have expected showers to have the same "lowness" problem, since most of the doorways I walked through were designed for the average pint-sized Englishman of 1620. But no. I actually had very little need to squat, once I actually got the shower working.
And that's the thing. You don't normally think of a shower as having a "user interface," but these did. You expect something vaguely analogous to the sink controls, a knob controlling hot or cold, and maybe a lever to switch from tub faucet to shower spray. Nope. The showers I used (when they actually were showers and not some kind of bathtub/hose hack) offered a control mechanism consisting of no less than four knobs, two levers, a pull chain, and a toggle switch. And often more than that.
What's worse, there appear to be competing factions of shower control apparatus manufacturers, so what one lever does in one shower might not do the same thing in another. And then I have the singularly idiotic habit of disrobing completely and standing in the path of the water before I even begin the process of puzzling through the thing's operation. It made for some exhilirating mornings.
I would detail to you what each knob and lever did, if I had ever figured it out. I just turned and flicked and pulled and switched until the shower and I came to a compromise.
What I still can't shake, though, is the impression that if I had figured out the right sequence of knobs and switches, I might have been able to open a secret doorway to the labs of MI6.
Or Narnia, at the very least.
posted by Dean at 10/19/2005 10:58:00 AM
3 Comments:
Did it ever occur to you that perhaps they didn't want you to shower? That they were trying to make it so difficult to take a shower that you would just give up and wait until you got home? What better way to perpetuate the Ugly American myth?
You've spent time in Central America?
Oh, that explains a lot.
Which country?
Being a larger than average man myself (6'+, 200+ lbs) I too get to enjoy the ever so exciting game of "Bend your knees to get your arm pits and hair wet."
Nothing quite like smacking your bicep on the shower head as you step into the shower.
Another great joy I have is that there is no room to turn around without putting your arms strait down to your sides in those hotel showers.
Doesn't anyone else clean both the front and back of thier bodies in those things?
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