Of a Lego size Biblical Flood

November 27, 2009

Convincing Jake (aka Mr. Clean from the summer) to visit Izzy Town was a bit hard, but eventually we made the arduous trip via a 3 hours bus ride on the newly paved mountain passes that makeup the last half of the Baku-Izzy Town Yol.  Arriving in top but tired form, we hoped to settle down for a freezing night of watching newly purchased DVD’s courtesy of Mr. Hong Kong Harries-little did we know…


In context.  Right before leaving for Baku I awoke to loud pounding on my door at the bad hour of 7am-upoin opening the door I was greeted by a barrage of cussing that was issuing forth from the mouth of a xanim who was missing all lower front teeth and looked to be in the range of 60 but was likely closer to 40.  In-between the near constant stream of ‘Pox Su!!!’ (Literal translation: Shit Water) I managed to ascertain that apparently my toilet was raining down what appeared for all intents and purposes to be Shit Water into her toilet. (Good aim, I say) After 4 days of various incompetent males attempting to fix the toilet, no water, no heat and a flat that smelled of shit water, I left for Baku with the promise of returning to a toilet and accompanying pipes that worked if not correctly as least marginally. 


Fast forward to us arriving, arguing with 2 pretend repair men who made lobotomized zombies (stole that from DS-thank you) look smart, and finally being under the impression that until the next day, things in the pipe/toilet world were ‘Yaxsi’.

Apparently in the short time from when the lobotomized zombie repair men left and we had hidden ourselves under a mountain of blankets and were a few scenes into ‘2012’ (how appropriate), my toilet and all related and non related pipes had decided to give rebellion a go and simultaneously freeze, break, implode and spew a combination of sewage, moldy water and mysterious black particles into my bathroom, hallway and bedroom.  Standing in the bathroom door, we were in silent awe contemplating the ridiculous scene-moldy water was spewing from a recessed light socket, cracks in the ceiling, and pipes on the floor-the water had already made an ½ inch deep puddle outside the door.  Harmoniously cussing at the same time, we were momentarily paralyzed by the sheer un-believability of what was unfolding. Thankfully we recovered from shock in time to realize several important things, namely that: both of us have no idea whatsoever how to fix Azeri pluming, our socks were wet, we were standing directly in the line of fire and my bedroom had swiftly become a flood zone.  Unfortunately in times of crisis my Azerbaijani is limited to cussing making the process of describing over the phone to my mostly deaf (and a tad senile) landlady that a Lego size flood of biblical proportions was unfolding, a painfully drawn out endeavor that ended with me repeating ’Water Everywhere, Toilet Cut, I don’t know why!’.  After hanging up, unsure when and even if help would show up, Jake and I (laughing hysterically) were found to be running about with old sweat shirts and dish towels, since we also discovered that my processions lack a considerable supply of vary large, very absorbent towels for soaking up shit water.  Help did arrive though, in the form of 2 of my students, who thankfully, hid their amusement at my distress, and set to work turning knobs and handles and making phone calls (how this helps burst/broken pipes is beyond me)-eventually they crawled up to the roof, where several loud repair type sounds could be heard, and then, the moldy rain shower subsided, the light socket stopped spewing, and a general calm was reached.  My students left covered in attic dirt, assuring me that everything was fixed, and that the last repair to be done was bolting of the toilet to the tile. 


Launching a rescue mission to salvage clothes and bedding from the room proved to be more frustrating and time consuming than useful, as reaching anything needed required a ninja run/jump/back flip move that given my state of tiredness was only executable once.  Too tired to soak up nasty water and rather peeved at the interruption to our movie, we had to settle for trying to not fall off the fold out couch (how I can possess such a luxury and still not have heat is a problem that makes my brain hurt), not freeze to death (as my gas had just gone out entirely) and sleep (as my bed was a literal un reachable ark of comfort sitting in a puddle of moldy water.)  Somehow it was all managed, though for the next day using the bathroom was akin to entering a war zone of enemy mud, insurgent mold, and stealthy gorilla black flecks hiding everywhere.


2 Responses to “Of a Lego size Biblical Flood”

  1. Vikki said

    You’re a great story teller, even better than Jake!

  2. mcmacdonald said

    thanks, he also built a couch that weekend, clearly you’ve trained him well 🙂

    even more funny that from wordpress the:

    ‘Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)

    •When it rains it pours
    •Tales From The Handicap Bathroom
    •Toilet Geyser

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