After 30 years as a travel writer I'm often on auto-pilot. It's my personal method of coping with crowded airports, flight delays, cancellations, long waits to obtain a room and the fatigue that often accompanies travel to faraway destinations.
Don't get me wrong: I love traveling (and writing about it) for a living.
My many international journeys have been-after my current marriage and the years-ago birth of my son-some of the most rewarding experiences of my life. But it ain't always easy, and if I've learned anything it's that travelers should take nothing for granted.
Bathrooms for instance.
I pointed out in an earlier column that airport bathrooms are easily the most reliable locales for celebrity sightings. Yet as it turns out they're also potential detention facilities. I learned that around 2000 as I embarked on a Yangtze River cruise aboard a Victoria Cruises ship.
As is the rule rather than the exception I had a fascinating voyage. Our trip coincided with the launch of construction on the Three Gorges Dam, at the time among the largest engineering feats ever attempted.
Damming the mighty river would ostensibly control seasonal floods that had devastated Chinese farm communities for generations, but the project would also permanently submerge hundreds of river communities and ancient cultural and architectural sites. As a result, our voyage allowed us to experience fascinating places that today lie deep underwater.
The one difficulty was our vessel. While the 100-passenger ship certainly appeared seaworthy, it offered several idiosyncrasies, including sloping floors, doors that jammed easily and some language disconnect between staff and guests.
One evening, the public relations person leading the trip and I visited the small bar. I ordered a screwdriver and received gin and orange soda (for the record, I really dislike gin). Still, I drank down a couple of the ersatz screwdrivers because, well, I needed a drink. So, I took what I could get.
The real excitement began later that evening when I strolled off to my cabin after bidding Dave good night. Closing the door, I was feeling no pain but far from drunk. I entered my bathroom to relieve myself before bed and closed and locked the door.
Why did I lock the door? I was traveling (as I do on most trips) alone. There was no need to use a lock. None at all. But I had, and when I turned around to open the door it was wedged shut.
I tried to open the lock but it didn't move a centimeter. I pushed and pulled on the door. Nothing happened. I began to bang on the door and yell for help, but it was about 3:30 a.m. around then and the ship was silent. No one came.
Sitting on the floor I weighed my options. I sure as hell didn't want to sleep in that tiny bathroom. It was then I noticed that the door was actually hollow in the middle and connected by a small plastic vent at the bottom.
Thinking it over, I began to try to rip the vent from the door as a means of escape. I pulled and pushed and kicked at that vent for about 45 minutes before it loosened. I kept working and eventually kicked out the entire bottom of the door. Finally I crawled out of the bathroom on my stomach.
By now, I was pretty sober, albeit exhausted. The entire bottom half of the door lie on the floor. Just for my own satisfaction I tried again to open the top half. The lock was wedged as tight as ever. What was left of the door did not budge. Giving in, I staggered over to the bed and dozed off quickly.
The next morning came, and I knew my first move should be to visit Dave and explain what had occurred the prior evening. He listened to my story and assured me he would square everything with the Chinese ship officials.
So, imagine my surprise an hour later when I walked past him talking the incident over with ship officials. I distinctly heard one utter the phrase, "Drunk American trash room!"
Uh oh.
This was not good. Chinese secret police had accompanied us the entire trip, and some non-secret, uniformed police boarded the ship to investigate! All on a ship where sticky doors were the rule, not the exception. I imagined my first visit to China would end with me sentenced to an internment camp. Talk about unnerved.
Somehow, in a gesture for which I will always be grateful, Dave talked them out of arresting me. I don't know how exactly he managed it-I don't want to know-but it all occurred exactly one day before the voyage's end.
As I traveled to the airport the next morning via a private transfer, I had the distinct feeling I would be stopped at any moment and detained in the country. I spent the entire transfer-three hours-looking over my shoulder.
Eventually I accessed my flight in the Chinese airport, pushing through hundreds of Chinese travelers, whose concept of personal space differs from my own. As the plane took off I finally exhaled. I was free.
Incredibly, I had a similar experience years later in a hilltop Puerto Rico restaurant. Excusing myself during lunch, I strolled to the restroom, entered, and locked the door. When I was ready to exit, it wouldn't open! Clearly, I still hadn't learned!
This time I was able to extricate myself after about 15 minutes when the lock unexpectedly opened. As my fellow travel companions observed, "You have some trouble with bathrooms."
I couldn't argue with them. Clearly they were correct. Since then I've learned NEVER to lock the bathroom doors in my hotel rooms, cruise ship staterooms, jungle lodges, or anywhere else I've stayed during my travel. You can't be too careful and you can't take anything for granted while traveling.
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