The Trouble Faucet at the Local Arcade

When you are out for fun and social excitement at the local arcade, you don’t expect any surprises, like being completely showered with water (unless it’s pouring rain). It sounds harmless, but wait and see.

I have my favorite game place, my usual friends and sidekicks that go along (or not), and a regular routine when I get there. I go casual enough in simple clothes, hang out, play until I am thoroughly saturated, and go home. However, recently a few fellow gamers decided to go out after. This was pretty special as we don’t often indulge. Like I said, I have a routine.

I donned some better duds for the occasion. A great top over jeans is fancy in my book and I was proud of the look. So on it went and out I did go. The evening was uneventful at first. I know what to expect and get what I come for. You bump into people if it’s crowded, but no big deal. I was a little cautious about moving around and considered myself lucky by the end of the night that I had no spots or stains on the beloved blouse. I really made an effort to keep it pristine.

Yes, I had done a good job of dodging some rambunctious newbies. Some people get over excited and I get that. But I was wary nonetheless. So I decided to get ready to go, signaled my friends, and headed for the washroom to freshen up.

I waited my turn, went inside, turned on the light, and took a glance in the mirror. Everything looked fine. Then I looked down, saw dirty hands, and set out to do the washing task. It turns out their faucet in the bathroom was broken, so I had to go use their little staff kitchen area. For what was an otherwise very unassuming arcade, they had a really nice staff kitchen that was decked out with a really fancy faucet. I turned on the faucet gently, but whew! Water came spewing out in a gush. Panicking, I grabbed the knobs and twisted and turned them fiercely. After a short while, I did succeed and stepped back to take a breath. Inhale, exhale. I had survived the onslaught. Or so I thought. My top was soaked. The beautiful, delicate fabric was drenched. Didn’t respond well to the water. It wrinkles as it dried and left an obvious mark around the edges of the affected area. You can’t just hope for the best.

It was ruined. It had to go to the dry cleaners, and pronto if I wanted to ever wear it again. I was devastated. I love that blouse and wanted to look good—all night. I thought quietly for a moment, then grudgingly reached for my trusty backpack. I had an old tee inside that I keep for who knows why. It ain’t great but it would do. I put it on and thanked my lucky stars it was at least clean. I rolled up the top and stowed it away.

I ventured out to find my awaiting gang. They looked puzzled as I said, “don’t ask!” They did and I explained. “We love you whatever you are wearing,” they joined in together. “Let’s go.”