seriously with the mod cons?

So I had a night away in the illustrious Jupiters Casino in, wait for it, Townsville.... I happened to be there for work at the same time as Ms C...so I had the honour of lobbing in to her swish hotel booking.  Not only was it at the (woohoo) Casino (quite the posh address in Townsville it seems) but a faulty TV over-came Ms C's British reluctance to complain, and we received an upgrade to the newly refurbished "executive suites"... noice!  All quite stylish daarling... Now I don't want come across as a country bumpkin all wow'ed by the mod cons of sophisitication... I mean I have stayed in many more than my fair share of luxury hotels while posing as an intrepid aid worker in the tropical pleasures of Fiji.... And at the same time I don't want to lose the ability to enjoy things with child-like innocence or to become jaded and unappreciative...so I oooh and aaaah at the glass cased bathroom with its mammoth tub, played freely with the electric privacy screens that slid down around the bath when required, played with the tasteful mood lighting and bounced on the king sized bed in glee...
My attempts to be both worldly and yet still balanced enough to have fun in, you know, a sophisticated professional travelling for work sort of way were somewhat damaged however by my experience of the shower.
I blame the architect.  Clearly no-one thought about the reality of the experience of the user when they designed the oh so modeeerrrn but highly impractical shower.  Things looked normal enough... a space with a drain, a tap on the wall, a hand-hold-able shower head (modern and sleek) tucked into its cradle on the wall... Innocently I stepped into the space, taking care to stand out of range of that first cold jet from the shower head.  I turned the tap, my mind on other things... what to wear to dinner... what desserts they would be likely to have on the buffet... and lo... Boom!  I was rudely jolted from my ponderings by a blast of icey water on the top of my head!  good god above!  Being the quick thinker that I am I immediately turned off the tap and stood, dripping forlornly, and looked up.  There in the ceiling of the bathroom, an oh-so-tastefully discreet panel with little dots on it.  Set flush to the ceiling was a secret hidden second shower head.  Not a recognisable one, mind, but a super-mod panel of little secret fighter jets.  I looked at the tap in consternation.  Set into the handle was a super discreet little button, which clearly one must press if one wanted water to come out of the actually visible shower head.  Well.... where the hell was the warning!?  Where were the bloody instructions!?  There was no red lettered notice as you enter the shower zone saying "beware - water will come out of the roof unless you press the little silver button!"  I mean sheesh.
Once I got my breath back I laughed of course - what else could I do?  But really..... modernity gone mad I say.