We named our apartment The Titanic. We were probably asking for what happened next, but there is only so much flooding you can handle before you start to draw the obvious conclusions.
It all started with a broken pipe. What followed was a flooded bathroom, bedroom and closet. Online maintenance work orders and calls to the emergency line did nothing, as our internet pleas went unnoticed and the emergency line had a full inbox. And so we went on with our lives, the carpet squished under our feet as a water mark appeared on a bedroom wall, and still no maintenance man.
The day they finally did come with industrial blowers and a saw to cut into the wall, we thought our problems were over. They repaired the pipe and told us we would no longer be living in filth – it was now safe to use the shower.
This was welcome news, because in the three days we had lived aboard the Titanic our AC had not been working. (The fact that we were living in Orlando in August only made matters worse). But we trudged on! A captain does not abandon his ship and we would not abandon our apartment.
But then we started taking on more water.
The carpet next to the kitchen and extending down the hall became damp. Soon the situation was upgraded to wet, before it became full-on soaking. If you accidentally stepped on a wet spot your foot would come up dripping. Again we called the emergency line. And again we waited, sending each other frantic text message updates as the situation worsened.
“We are taking on water. This is NOT a drill.”
Finally the maintenance man returned and we found out the problem. The Titanic had hit it’s iceberg. Literally. We stared in shock as he pulled out a giant block of ice from our non-functioning AC unit and threw it outside. Sure, we had asked for this when we named our apartment after a sunken cruise liner, but I didn’t actually think there would be an iceberg involved.
Luckily our iceberg didn’t sink us. More industrial blowers were brought in and our air conditioning finally stared pumping out cool air. They brought in a giant dehumidifier for the bedroom with a hole still prominently displayed on the wall and told us we were done. They would be back for the dehumidifier in a few days and life aboard the Titanic would finally be normal.
There was just one tiny issue. Standing in the previously flooded bathroom, staring at the hole in the wall, we had but one question:
“Does THIS look done to you?!?”
This story is part of a three part series that chronicles my real life moving horror stories. I hope you enjoyed it. Come back next week for the second installment!