I forgot to mention a couple other things about the hotel. First, in the lobby and throughout the halls, 1950’s-black-and-white-movie-sounding music is constantly playing. When I’m walking around I feel like Audrey Hepburn could pop out at any second. And if she doesn’t, I never feel alone, thanks to the complementary soap provided by the hotel, which has on its label “And it's so late. But I'll wait. Through the long night with you. With you". I don’t know why the soap wrapping would have such a thing written on it but I guess I should be glad, at least, that my soap is so devoted to me. I certainly prefer that to the alternative.

As for the problem I had with my tennis racket, I resolved it earlier this afternoon, although not by using a staple gun. First, I used some sort of glue that one of the tournament workers let me use. After letting the glue dry I tested it out and found that the handle cap was still too loose. I then asked the racket stringer on site at the tournament if he could fix my racket. He had never dealt with that sort of problem before so, instead, he suggested that I go to the sports store just down the road from the tennis courts. I went but it quickly became apparent that there would not be anyone there who could fix my racket. Feeling as though I was out of options, I returned to the tennis courts. As I was standing in the clubhouse, I looked out the window and noticed a sort of Japanese Home Depot across the street. I figured if there’s anywhere around here that has a staple gun it would have to be that place.

I walked over and wandered around the store for a few minutes in search of someone using tools. I soon heard the sound of wood being sawed and followed the sound to the back corner of the store. I found a man at one of the wood-cutting stations and indicated to him by pointing to the staples on my racket handle that I needed to repair the handle. After he told me he didn’t have a staple gun, I walked over to the other wood-cutting stations where there was a woman sawing pieces of lumber as her child waited in a stroller. I indicated the same thing to her as I had to the man just before and she got the attention of one of the workers, as I didn’t realize she was a customer. The store-worker led me over to the nails section of the store and helped me find a pack of the smallest nails for sale. I bought a pack and then went back to where the woman had just been sawing wood, which I think was a sort of customer workshop. Although it didn’t strike me the first time I went by the workshop to ask the woman for help, I realized the second time around how unlikely it would be that a Home Depot or Lowe’s Home Improvement store would ever have this sort of thing in the U.S. This was an in-store workshop with unsupervised access to a table saw and several hand saws along with some more basic tools. The lawsuits would be endless.

So after buying nails I proceeded to use the available hammer and drove some nails through the cap and into the base of my racket handle. I was unsure at first whether or not this would work but I had nothing to lose. I drove the first few and tested it out by pulling the cap away from the handle. It seemed to be working! I must have looked like a bit of a madman to any passersby; as I was driving nails into my tennis racket, an act absurd in itself, I, myself, started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Nonetheless, about fifteen or twenty nails later, the cap was better than new.

Now I’m ready to get back on the court with my equipment in top-notch condition.