Danger Supplement #2

Go back to the first Danger Supplement and read Item #3 right now if you haven't already.

Okay. Here we go.

Monday night I was in our hostel dorm room with Chateau and Trish getting ready to go out to dinner. Our room had cabinets that could be secured with a padlock for the storing of our belongings and valuables. Chateau stored his valuables in his cabinet, but kept his clothing belongings in his enormous shoulder bag outside of the cabinet. Chateau fished into his belongings to find some nice on-the-town clothes and said, quizzically, "My clothes are...wet?" He dug more. "My clothes are all wet." He took some out, examined, sniffed. "My clothers are wet...and minty? Smell this." I smelled. I held. It's true, his clothes were moist and, yeah, definitely minty, fresh maybe? And the bag had some sort of mysterious liquid-induced staining on the side.

Did our aggravated friend from the night before (who was now, along with his buddies, checked out and long gone from the hostel) pour some sort of mysterious minty liquid (perhaps an invisible toothpaste or, oh my gosh, his binaca?) into Chateau's bag as punishment for bedshaking? It seems that is what happened.

In the exploring of this mystery and the handwashing and hanging of some of the clothes our on-the-town departure was delayed a few hours and we wound up at the Porcao across the street for a lengthy and merciless meat meal.

When we got home that night, stuffed full of three Brazilian cows a piece, Chateau climbed up to his top bunk and I hear Chateau say, quizzically, "My bed is...wet?" He sniffs. Oh dear.

Chateau's bed had been peed on. The room recoiled in disgust and horror.

Did our aggravated friend from the night before tell his buddies, "Get a load of this! I'm going to teach that bedshaker a lesson!" climb up to the top bunk, take off his pants, and pee all over Chateau's bed? It seems that is what happened.

(fortunately the spaces left by the departure of our charming former dormmates had not been filled and Chateau could transfer to one of those for the night)

Now I break a rule of Danger Summaries to tell a tale of Tuesday morning so I can wind this saga up: Tuesday morning we're hustling and bustling a little to pack up our stuff and take a vacation from our vacation in the form of a trip to the tropical paradise called Ilha Grande (more on that soon) and Trish is emptying out her cabinet, her locked cabinet, and says, not quizically but in a worrisome tone, "My ipod and iphone are gone." And there was nothing to touch or smell this time because, yes, her ipod and iphone, previously hidden beneath all her belongings at the rear of her cabinet were gone. Totally gone.

Had our weird dormmate gone from a clothes dampening bed pee-er to a full on burglar? It seems that is what happened.

As Trish's cabinet was locked up with a sturdy padlock, a padlock that showed no signs of defect under inspection, it is a mystery how this burglary took place. My theory, and I stick to it, is that our criminal unscrewed the very latch and hook through which the lock is secured, rendering it useless in its designed purpose.

Complaints were made to the hostel office, they condescended to wash Chateau's clothes and bedding at no cost and made a note to never let those three rascals stay at that hostel again. Serves them right! Justice, I think we'd agree, was served.