Most embarrassing

Most Embarrassing

So, this literally just happened to me and it has to be my most embarrassing moment ever. Here it goes…

Today is a rainy day in Hanoi. And cold. But…

Before the rain started falling, I was at a cafe working the entire night to finish a client project. It was around 5:47 am when I finally decided to return to my apartment.

When I got back to my “travel base“, I laid in bed and contemplated sleeping. As you would expect, I tossed and turned and decided it’d be better to get a bite to eat instead.

The rain was falling lightly as I weaved between the morning traffic, dodging motorcycle mirrors and dirty water splashed at my feet. I watched the daily lives of Vietnamese people get underway.

There was an elderly woman making Binh Mi at a stand next to a cage filled with chickens and ducks getting prepped for the slaughter. She made delicious french bread sandwiches filled with chicken, vegetables and a cat food looking pate while other would choose to eat the birds. Those that chose a bird resulted in the poor little creature getting pulled out of the cage, killed with a blunt blade chopping off its head, plucked until not a single feather remained, then finally boiled and prepared for the customer to keep.

I continued my walk through the market place as the rain maintained its light drizzle. Many of the locals were looking at me like I was a total lunatic because of my shorts, t-shirt, and flipflops in the dismal weather.

Eventually, I made it past all the awful onlookers and came to my favorite bakery to get a couple loaves of french bread. Each morning, so far, I have gone to this bakery for their steaming hot, fresh out of the oven, crispy crust bread.

If you ever go to China, you’ll quickly understand why this is so important to me.

Anyway, on my walk back to the apartment, I stopped by a local convenience store to find a razor for my hairy face. Most of the razors available were the cheap dual-blades by Gillette which does a better job at massacring your face instead of shaving it.

I spent more than 37 minutes scraping the hair from my face. After carving only half my face, the razor was clogged with micro chunks of hair and skin. I decided to go back into my room to grab an old tooth brush to clean it out.

Now, at this time, I should probably explain the structure of my bedroom. I have two doors. One that leads to the main hallway and another that leads to the bathroom. It’s not a private bathroom, but I have my own private door that accesses it.

Every time I enter my room, I have a habit of sliding the bolt lock on the front door leading to the hallway. So, that door was locked when I began slicing and dicing my face with that cheap razor.

When I entered the bathroom, I entered through the private door with ha bar of soap, the razor from hell, and a towel covering my genitals. The lock on the knob was one of those button push and turn contraptions. If you open the door from the inside, the lock pops open and unlocking the door.

O.K., where was I?

Right, I had half a mustache remaining on my upper lip and a thick bush dangling from my chin. At this point, the razor could barely cut the hair and I was just neatly combing the ridiculous patches in whatever direction the razor went.

That’s when I decided to re-enter my room to find an old toothbrush. You can see where this is going, right?

As I tried to turn the door knob, to my horror, the door was locked. I had a 2 minute freak out which involved hysterical laughter while calling myself a total idiot. All the while, I had two ridiculous furry bits of hair on my face and a razor that gave up on life.

I quickly contemplated my situation and, my thoughts went something like this:

I can’t go out there wearing a towel and a psychopath’s face…

At the very least, I have to shave the rest of my face. 

It’s goin to be cold outside too, I’m going to have hard nips. 

Oh, and if anyone up-skirts me, they’re going to see my big dangling bamboo and baby coconuts.

Hmm, there’s no other way, this is what I have to do…

I smashed the razor repeatedly over the bathroom sink to try and get the gunk out and continue removing my 1.7+ month long hair growth. This tactic sort of worked but needed repeating after each use. Little bits of hair and flesh covered the mirror and bathroom wall. My eyes were in tears as I literally scraped the hairs out micrometer by micrometer.

With my face looking fresh and full of razor rashes, it was time to go downstairs.

I live in a 4 story, narrow-style, old school Vietnamese home. It’s packed tightly behind the Hanoi Train Station (Ga Hà Nội) and one of the coolest places I have discovered upon arrival to a new city.

I left the bathroom. I walked through the hallway. I approached the first flight of stairs. Not a single soul saw me.

I succeeded down the first flight, then the next flight, and found myself in front of the main door.

My nips were hard. My dangling bamboo was looking like more like a baby bamboo shoot.

I knocked.

The owner of the house, Ms. Hue, looked at me without surprise. I don’t know if previous foreigners have been here and have knocked on her door with only a towel on, but she was completely cool about my situation. I explained that I was locked out and I need the key to re-open my room.

Ms. Hue’s husband walked in wearing a puzzled look on his face. He obviously spoke no English and it was up to Ms. Hue to interpret why a half-naked Canadian was standing at their front door. They exchanged words in Vietnamese and the husband immediately scurried away. It wasn’t long before he returned with one of the biggest ring of keys I had ever seen.

I waved to Ms. Hue and knew that this topped all my embarrassing experiences in life. It definitely topped that one time I was going door to door selling coupons and knocked on a door while a guy was masturbating on a computer right beside an open front window. It was embarrassing because the poor guy was beating a bamboo shoot the size of an ant hill.

So, I follow Mr. Hue upstairs with my hand pressed against the towel in a lady-like manner to prevent any creepy pervs from seeing my lady, uhh, I mean, my man bits.

Mr. Hue goes to my front door in the hall and begins to take the keys out to open it. I stop him and explain that I slid the bolt lock shut and can’t get in. He then enters the bathroom and takes a look at the door then starts looking through the keys. He pauses, nods his head, then makes a shivering cold gesture to sympathize with my situation before going back downstairs.

I was a bit confused at this point and humiliated for having my tits out so openly. Luckily, it was just a few minutes before Mr. Hue returned upstairs with another set of keys. This one on a bigger ring. With more random keys…

He fumbled around for a minute or two. Looking through the keys and testing certain ones in the door. He eventually gave up and started to go back downstairs. When he was halfway through the hallway, it was like an angel reminded him which key he was supposed to use. He paused. Looked at the key ring. Chose one key. Then returned to the bathroom with glorious rays of light bouncing off the walls and a heavenly choir singing in the background.

Hallelujah! This embarrassing ordeal was finally over.

Do you have an embarrassing story to share? Let me know your embarrassing story in the “Write your thoughts…” section below (You don’t have to write a full blown story like this one but enough to determine whether your story is more embarrassing than mine. Deal?)

Jef van de Graaf
Canadian Copywriter & World Traveler
Business | Travel Blog | Connect

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