My Strange Relationship with My Travel Buddy Scott

I had been in bed not longer than an hour when I crept out of the room to visit the bathroom. Though I had arrived only an hour ago at Scott and Sam’s home in London, I figured they would probably already be sleeping. The house was silent and the chill London air was still outside. I was quiet as a mouse as I quietly opened the creaky bedroom door, careful not to wake my hosts. What happened next is perhaps the most terrifying tale of woe and whimsy in the history of travel-writing.