Greetings from Charlotte, North Carolina where I am holding up in the lovely Doubletree hotel. For some reason the hallways are a virtual haze of foggy smoke whenever I make my way to my non-smoking room. I mean really, what's the point of a non-smoking room. I've now created a little game for myself where I see if I can hold my breath after exiting the elevator and make it to my room without passing out. So far I'm 2-0. Tonight I got a craving for snacks. It hit me sometime after reading Cheryl's post about Cheetos. When I travel I usually pack for comfort over style so I donned my only casual clothes for this trip which included a pair of boxers with pink moose (or possibly Kairbu?) on them, a white boys Hanes undershirt, and a pair of slip-on shoes. Shuffling down the hall I was dreaming of my carmel mixed with chocolate twix cookie when I suddenly realized my room was down the hall from the banquet rooms. There was no way to pass them so I turned back to go to my room. Then the horror of at all hit me. Yep, I left my room card key inside. So, with a bit of Jame's Bond grace I darted and slid down the hall and swiftly passed the open banquet hall doors with hundred's of people and just kept telling myself over and over that none of those people will ever see me again in their lives.
Finding the vending machine was uneventful and after clutching my twix and pretzels I squared my shoulders and headed out to complete my mission. I confidently, purposely, headed straight for the front desk without making any eye contact to anyone I passed and why should I since my mere attitude and chin held high suggested that absolutely everything was in my control. My voice was strong and contained no shame as I asked for a duplicate card key. After receiving it I turned on my heel with my clutched provisions and strode brillently back to the elevators. I was almost in the clear until the elevator opened and of course, in true Murphy's Law form, a coworker stepped onto the elevator. I answered questions about tomorrow's agenda as elequently as one can while wearing pink antlered animals. After what seemed to be about 4 hours the elevator door finally opened and I bolted to my room.
Finally, Mission Accomplished.
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8 comments:
Bwahhhhhahahahahaha! I'm not laughing AT you, I'm laughing WITH you. Isn't that like one of those bad dreams where you show up to take a test in your underwear?
But I'll tell you this - judging by what some folks wear these days as "casual" clothes, most people probably thought you were overdressed for the occasion, or at least just getting ready for a night on the town. Hah!
I bet next time you throw pretzels and twix in the suitcase before you leave home, right? I throw M&M's in my bag, if for nothing else so I don't have to pay $5 for a single-serve bag at the airport.
Hope the rest of your trip is less eventful!
LOL!
But, it was worth it, wasn't it?
After all, it was TWIX :-)
Mmmmm twix. You have made me really crave one now. That was so well written!
LOL!! I love your writing. I can just picture you and your defiantly confident attitude. :)
And Laura's right, it was for a Twix, after all.
Ahahahahaha!You can probably guess---unlike Eric, I'm laughing AT you. Well, you're used to it by now.
You can blame Cheryl, her open post led to Cheeto speculation, which led to your craving, which led to your exposure in boxers to hundreds of strangers. Kind of like the six degrees of Kevin Bacon in a circular fashion, since you now end your TwixQuest back home in the blogosphere.
Really, I think it's great humiliation brings out the creative storyteller in you. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say we support you 100% when you share these stories. We need the cheap laughs.
And one question...did you think running from the elevator was going to spare you further embarrassment? Instead of being a woman in slip-ons, t-shirt, and boxers with unspecified pink ungulates, you were a RUNNING woman in slip-ons, t-shirt, and boxers with unspecified pink ungulates. That likely drew the attention of the seven--maybe eight---people in the hotel who hadn't noticed you before that point.
Just thought I'd point that out. Happy Twixing.
Well, Cara, while we're laying blaming for Donna's humiliation, let's lay the smelly thing at Eric's feet... since he's the one that brought up Cheetos in the first place. :)
Is that "lay the smelly thing at Eric's feet" or "lay the thing at Eric's smelly feet"?
Yeah, I'll take the blame, if only because NOBODY jumped on my first topic of conversation. Y'all just HAD to pass the easy one and jump on the impossible Cheeto discussion!
Regardless, I and my smelly feet will just bask in the glow of the effects of great blogging!
I want to go downstairs to get my water and lemonade from my mother's hotel room...and now I'm scared!
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