Stain Fighter

ESQUIRE MAGAZINE
March 1999

 

So you forgot to reserve at the Four Seasons, and now even the Plaza is booked solid. You try every place in town, but the only room you can get makes Motel 6 look like the Taj Mahal. Well, Felix, you're not traveling alone anymore: Those are your neuroses at your side, heavy baggage, room for two, please. So what do you do when you can't figure out where that smell's coming from, and you lay your toothbrush carefully on the sink's edge to prevent bristle-to-basin contact, and you know there's some kind of dried-on something or other on the comforter - which you're sure never gets washed? You employ the RestAssured Personal Inspection Light (P.I.L.), a remote-control-sized black light that detects the vast array of human schmutz that's known to skulk in all strata of public lodging.

The P.I.L. sees what you cannot by emitting ultraviolet rays under which, in darkness, most dried bodily excretions fluoresce like radioactive Rorschachs. Urine-stained mattresses, semen-splattered furniture, saliva-slathered pillows - virtually nothing escapes its scrutiny. Which is ultimately a good, if nauseating, thing; as a paying guest, you shouldn't have to wallow in filth not of your own orifice. And next time call ahead.