Like most people our age, we love electronics. We've got laptops, Kindles, phone chargers, etc, and I don't think it's too much to ask that they're charged properly. However, we only brought two french outlet converters with us, but that's okay because we brought power strips!!
On one of our first nights here, we had had a long day and were just exhausted. We came back to the hotel and rummaged through the suitcases to find said power strips. It was very late and we changed into pajamas, calling out to each other "have you seen this?" and "what bag was that in?"
I was in the bathroom when I heard a loud POP and Brian cursing. When I rushed into the main room, there was an acrid smell in the air. He told me that the power strip had sparked blue and that the outlet had blown. We located the little breaker box and reset it. Brian confidently strode over to a different outlet on the other side of the room, with a different power strip. Now I'm not one to say I know everything about electronics, but this seemed like a bad idea to me. I explained that I didn't want him to die from electric shock. He looked at me like he was talking to a child, saying, "Well, we know what went wrong. THAT was an older strip. THIS is a newer one." A slightly heated conversation happened, and I stayed on the far side of the room from this very bad idea. (Girlfriend interjection--sometimes we just have to let them do it their way.)
Brian looks at me triumphantly and says "watch!" As he pushes it in----ALL OF THE FUSES BLEW and we were plunged into darkness. So now we're standing in the dark, in our pajamas, and have to go tell the front desk that the stupid Americans (us) blew the fuses up on the third floor. I opened the curtains and we dressed from the street lights. I was concerned that some weirdo across the way got a bit of a show, but more concerned about starting a wiring fire. We trek downstairs and my face is bright red as Brian tries to explain to the night desk man. In broken English, we think the man understands, because he leaves the desk quickly. He returns with a big smile and hands us the same converter we have upstairs.
No, no, we say and then try to mime darkness like a pair of idiots. He stares at us with this totally confused look on his face (he probably thought we'd been drinking or something). This continues for five or six minutes and finally we get our message across. He tells us that he's the only desk person for another couple of hours so he can't leave. My face just fell so he tells Brian where the breaker box is and asks him to flip the big switch. Again, this doesn't sound like a great idea to me, but this time it worked out.
Now we can look back and laugh, but we know--one plug per outlet, no power strips.
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