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Man passes out in bathtub, floods hotel, complains that his belongings got wet.

Man passes out in bathtub, floods hotel, complains that his belongings got wet.


Gather around, friends and spectators, and hear now, a tale some five months in the making.

It is a story of delirious highs and despairing lows, of anger, frustration, and hilarity, of questionable choices and righteous struggle. And though the tale is tragic in the end, its telling is a lesson, and perhaps will not leave listeners too sorrowful. For each life must contain its moments of joy and contentment.

(Shout out to this wordsmith. The whole story is just a kick to read.)

Guest Complains That All His Things Are Wet; You Won't BELIEVE what Happens Next!


It began late last August, when a first time guest--we'll call him Barry--made a reservation with a couple of my co-workers on the PM shift. The circumstances are obscured now, but Barry claimed that a local airline would be footing the bill for his room (distressed passenger or contractor was his story).

Passengers from this airline have been known to be an issue on occasion, but I actually do not recall any disruption from Barry's room over the course of the night. Things were relatively quiet...Until the morning.

My coworker was just arriving, having strolled in pleasantly early and we were having a conversation about the usual pass-down topics when a few guests passing by the front desk mentioned there was water coming from the ceiling on second floor.

We pulled up the cameras. There was a huge, dark puddle of water stretching down half of the western section of the third floor hallway: a good twenty feet or so, meaning it could have come from any of five rooms. (At least it wasn't a leak UNDER the floor. Probably.)

My coworker called our General Manager, and went up to the floor in question with our shuttle driver (whose background is useful at times such as this).

After listening at the doors of several of the nearby rooms, they heard water running in the room at the end of the hall: it was, as you may have foreseen, the room registered to Barry. They pounded on the door, but hearing no answer, they used a staff key to enter.

Greeting my co-workers was a fearsome tableau.

Water puddled deep past the door, carpet squelching underfoot. And to the left, across a vast stretch of impromptu swamp, lay a glimpse of the source of this spreading flood: an overflowing bath tub, occupied by a loudly snoring, pale, drunken, flabby Barry.

Our fearless shuttle driver stormed in to assess what had caused this state of affairs. With a quick slap, he shut off the flow of water from the tub's faucet and forcibly shook Barry's clammy shoulder, speaking the ancient revival incantation: 'WAKE UP, YOU IGNORANT SONUVAB*TCH!'

Meanwhile, our staff on site had already started scrambling to clean up the massive leak (and I had gone home).

I am unashamed to say I was a little gleeful that I did not have to deal with the forthcoming poo-storm. I missed quite the show, however, as I later learned.

Reading the beginning of this tale, and seeing how it progressed, some of you may have predicted that the airline to which Barry billed his room, would not cover the damage he caused. And indeed, they did not.

He had no authorization whatsoever to bill them for his room. And now (he complained, standing outside his room on third floor, amidst all the damage he had caused), all of his things were wet.

All of his things were wet? Talk about the Lion, the Witch, and the Audacity of this b*tch.

My General Manager, absolute legend that she is, took one of the soaked carpet tiles and flung it at him like a frisbee. (She asked that I not include this part. I told her, I have to: it's the BEST part.)

Well, as it turned out, Barry was on our shuttle schedule for a ride to the airport. Guess who did not get a ride to the airport? But he did get there, we are just not sure how.

Later in the day, our GM needed to discuss this situation with the airline, and so headed up the hill, and who should she meet there, but Barry. Another confrontation ensued, with much sturm und drang on both sides.

It was perhaps not the climactic moment, but my second favorite of this whole episode, where my manager proclaimed to Barry 'You are SUCH a LOSER!' Complete with the finger-L laid on her forehead. Yes. Friends, this happened. There is a reason I have worked at this property for twenty years.

Although they would not pay for Barry's room, and certainly not the damages he caused (four rooms were out of order for two weeks afterward), the airline did refuse to let him fly. How he got home, we do not know.

Now we enter the realm of the movement of corporations and law. Our owners (locals, but with quite deep pockets) elected to pursue legal action to force Barry to make good on the damage he had caused.

It took quite a bit of research (during which we discovered that evidently Barry owns, or at least works for, a consulting business: a safety consulting firm, if you can believe it) to track down Barry's wife. We believe if she is not yet, she soon will be, his ex wife.

She had been trying to serve him divorce papers, but he had eluded her, as he had us. (When our GM got hold of her and began to explain the situation, she cut to the chase: 'He was drinking, wasn't he?')

Our manager had a lovely chat with her. We also tracked down his grandmother, whom he was apparently living with, or at least sending / receiving mail through (as you are surely aware, a measure common among consulting professionals), to send him notification of our expectations.

Two weeks after his stay, Barry called the hotel and ended up getting hold of one of our employees with a name similar to that of our manager, and engaged in some verbal abuse.

Evidently he had drunk-dialed us. Barry is obviously not known for his judgment.

Unfortunately, this is where our story takes its sad turn. For though we could surely wring no small amount of damages from Barry, if we could only get him to the courtroom, he seems to have gotten away.

Leads on his 'consulting firm' have not panned out, any other avenue we pursue has gone nowhere. No fixed address for himself or his business, makes him a pretty slippery customer.

So friends, I must inform you that unless a sudden and dramatic reversal occurs, this is where our Tale concludes. The only justice Barry received was that meted out in person by our General Manager.

Perhaps there's a lesson there. Perhaps not. In any case, rest assured if there are updates worth making, I shall gleefully inform you all.

In the meantime, remember: don't take baths drunk, don't fall asleep in a bathtub... And especially do not fall asleep, drunk, in a bathtub, with the water running. Otherwise strangers will make internet points off your idiocy.

This flowery but delightful post prompted a lot of amusing responses:


'Safety consulting,' LOL. Not sure I would hire Barry for anything except, maybe, advice on mixing drinks.


Did the PM shift who let him check in without verifying that the airline was paying for the room also get in trouble? Because I feel like the whole thing could have been avoided right there.


I fall asleep in the tub with the water running all the time, the hot water helps my back. It's really not a problem as long as you don't plug up the overflow valve...which I am guessing Barry did.


Your GM and shuttle driver are legends.


I have an extremely similar tale. The essential difference is that the room in question was shared by three bridesmaids and the one in the bathtub was a relative stranger to the other two.

Moreover, guess whose credit card had been used to cover incidentals for the room? NOT the bathing beauty. That was a quick lesson in what 'incidentals' comprise for one unsuspecting bridesmaid.

Know who you're making yourself financially responsible for, people.


My only question is, did she look kinda dumb with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead?

Any hospitality specialists have a story that can top this one?

Sources: Reddit
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