I Have a Small Problem.

“Tengo un pequeño problema.” I have a small problem, I say over the phone to the Mexican hotel attendant. I strain to explain in Spanglish, “Mi amiga es trapped en la ducha.” My friend Heather is trapped in the shower. “The glass door is sealed shut, and it might break if I open it.”

I omit that she’s naked.

A man with a tool belt knocks at the door. I cinch my robe tight and throw another over the stall to my friend. Señor Fix-It enters, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” and puts his hand in front of his eyes as if to shade the sun. In seconds, he is drilling out the hinge screws. I’m thinking, she’s only half-way through her hair conditioning, and if this sucker breaks she’s gonna be tip-toeing through tempered glass. Minutes later, Heather is freed.

While Señor Fix-It is herking around the giant shower door, he asks, “Tiene un novio?” Do you have a boyfriend? This feels more like a crises than a round of speed dating, but still, he gets five-stars for coming to our rescue with power tools, and being shyly inquisitive with two wet women in robes.

Another early morning, above the pounding ocean surf, I hear Heather in the dark, “Laura, wake up!” I jump to my feet and assess our “new situation.” I again call my front desk compadre, and before I can say, “Tengo otro pequeño problema,” he says, “Ahhh, buenas dias. You have water?”

“Si. Mucha agua.” Inches of it flooding over our floor.

“We had a broken pipe overnight,” he says. “Someone is coming now.”

Heather throws the blanket over her head; I put on my robe.

Another toolbelted man with a stack of towels and a giant squeegie enters like a superhero. He swirls, swishes and corrals the water back into the shower. “The pipe has been fixed. No problema.”

That morning I jog through town, rising with the sun. “Hola, hola.” I’m greeted warmly by lines of men at the bus stop; women setting up taco stands; street sweepers in the square; drivers polishing their taxis; and a few stray perros (dogs). With each gaze and step, I gain a broader perspective. We all encounter challenges as we go about our day, but how do we react to them?

And then, as if I needed a third test of character on vacation, I again had to call my front desk amigo, “Tengo otro pequeño problema.”

I had been on my way to the gym when my cell phone rang. It was Heather, who had left for the airport an hour earlier. I thought she was calling with a final goodbye before takeoff. Instead, she shrieks, “LAURA! I HAVE YOUR PASSPORT! Mine is in the room. I mistakenly took the wrong one. I’m so sorry!”

“¡What the!?” I gasp!

This is one of those moments. Disbelief. Mild panic. Followed by…okay, how do we solve this one? How would Señor Fix-It react? I did an about-face and grab the passport. The relay race begins.

“Tengo una pequeña emergencia!” I say, as I hijack an empty shuttle van and driver.

We are now cruising and dodging every pothole, sputtering car, and crawling semi on the highway. “Más rápido!” I smile and use the universal choking motion to animate my frustration and bad Spanglish. We both shake our heads and laugh hysterically.

In front of Terminal 2, I whip open the door, sprint to Heather, and we quickly exhange the passports like batons. I give her a big hug, “Safe trip! I love you, friend. No es un problema.”

Ultimately, it wasn’t.

In the U.S. we live in an exaggerated state of wealth and convenience, and the smallest of setbacks can dampen our days. What if we view all our obstacles with the joyful attitudes of the two underpaid and willingly helpful handymen and predawn workers in Mexico? Life is a challenge, a puzzle, meant for us to get over and through.

Tengo un pequeño problema. Because most of our problems are small, if problems at all.

Love This Day. ¡Amas este día!

Please read my memoir, BERING SEA STRONG, to experience what it was like to spend three challenging months as the only woman and scientist working alongside 25 commercial fishermen on Alaska’s high seas.