In Italy the fridge for tourists is not just for refrigeration, @Robin4. The typical tourist fridge, a convex model of the 1940s (powered by a Magneti Marelli cooling motor) standing by a law of physics still unknown, has another main function: in the night its deafening buzz is used to keep awake guests. After the earplugs and the soundproof headphones, they remove the plug, causing the defrosting of the refrigetator.
The ice will melt in a few hours, the water will flood the kitchen, causing infiltration in the living room of Mrs. Wanda, older than the pyramids.
She’ll wake up and, after getting her feet wet, (Joshua, wake up! High water!), will call you all overwhelmed to tell you: "Her Japanese tourists. Dressed as refugees, And with a brain as big as a pea. First the washing machine of the Spaniards, now the fridge of the Japanese. It's time to stop it. Ohi, ohi, ohi. My poor flowered sofa! My poor carpet! My Limoges dishes service! Who pays them back now,? I need a draining pump!".
And then, you, host Airbnb, kneeling on a bed of chickpeas and thumbtacks, the head sprinkled with ash, after apologizing once again, closed the conversation, you will scream loudly to make the elastic of the pants tremble.
A demon. You are a demon, a rag soaked in poison. In five minutes you are under the home of the tourists, park your car on a rubbish bin, and head to your "Purple sunset of Rome", shouting "Banzai! Banzai!”
You climb up the stairs, smash the door, stumbling ruinously on the doormat, but the Japanese tourists not even the shadow, just a surplus of sushi, bought at the sushi bar of Piazza Navona run by Filipinos pretending to be Japanese (and in the back room they eat pizza in secret).
You just have to ask your Ficus Benjamina how things really went ... it is the only sincere friend who has remained at home.