Hello, from yet another conference with the hubs! Now, before you get all worked up with jealousy, we’re just in Dallas. Don’t get me wrong, Dallas is great, but it’s, you know, Dallas. Downtown is beautiful at night, though, as I hope you can tell from the photo above taken from our 17th floor hotel room. I know it’s not the best photo, but try to enjoy it because I almost pulled the curtains down trying to take it.
Those of you who have known me for any length of time may be a little concerned that I am at another conference with R. For those who don’t know me well, you are wondering why anyone would be concerned with me being on a conference with my husband? Well, where to begin…there was the conference to Cancun, where I almost fell off a catamaran, the one to Puerto Rico that I attended with pneumonia, the one to Florida where we flew through what can only be described as a hurricane and I sprained my ankle playing tennis in a ballroom, and let’s not forget everyone’s favorite in Utah, where I fell ice skating, securing a severe concussion. Yep. All at conferences with the hubs. I would also like to say that I don’t truly feel that I am to blame for any of these unfortunate situations, because if you ask me, which no one really has, is it smart to put middle-aged, chubby people on ice skates? I think not.
Now, rest easy, dear ones, I am completely fine, all in one piece, no injuries at all. Just a small stumble while walking to dinner after dark, but I’ll have you know that I did not even hit the ground, let alone roll down the grassy knoll next to the restaurant parking lot…not THAT grassy knoll, just a knoll, that was, you know, grassy. Anyway, I am fine. But in true beautiful mess fashion, I did have a new conference experience this afternoon.
I got up to my room after a nice afternoon with one of our niece’s, swiped my key card across the magnetic thingy, got the green light, tried opening the door, but the door wouldn’t open. Apparently, when the housekeeping staff left our room this morning and closed the door, it moved the latch that you turn when going to bed, you know, the “extra security” measure latch thing, and it was, well, latched. At first, I thought maybe R was already back from his meeting, so I called out for him a couple of times, but he wasn’t there. Then, I thought, “Oh, no! I’m at the wrong room!” so I quickly closed the door, dug around in my purse for the little envelope the key card comes in, to confirm that I was actually at the right room, and, much to my surprise, I was. Hmm. Just for good measure, I tried opening the door one more time. Same problem.
OK, I thought, I’ll just mosey over to the Courtesy Phone and call for someone to come…figure out how I’m going to get into my room. I called the front desk and explained, in my sweetest voice, that I was, in a manner of speaking, locked out of my room, and for once it wasn’t because I’d lost my key card. The woman I talked to actually finished my sentence for me, so apparently this has happened before, and was just about to send someone up to help me, when she discovered that my name wasn’t on our reservation…
Well, that’s not a surprise, I said, my husband is here for some business meetings. She then proceeded to tell me that she couldn’t let me into the room if my name was not on the reservation and that I, and all of the bags I had with me, would need to come back down to the front desk. I then, in a not-so-sweet voice, informed her that it was not strange at all for husbands to bring their wives on business trips, to which she replied, that she was sorry, but she was trying to protect “the guest,” to which I replied, “I AM THE GUEST!”
Needless to say, I got back on the elevator, headed back to the front desk, where I ran into R, because God really does love me, and also because God knew that I might be escorted OUT of the hotel for good had I not run into my “calm down, we’ll get it worked out” husband before I reached the front desk. But, 2 trips from a maintenance man later, we finally got back into our OWN room. That we are paying for. We, the guests.
But, the whole experience got me thinking: do people really break into other people’s hotel rooms? How does that work? I mean, there are hundreds of rooms in this hotel, maybe a thousand. How do these hotel thieves decide which rooms to break into? Do they sit in the lobby and follow the ones who come in with bags from the most expensive stores or just stores they want something from? Do they watch to see what kind of cars people get out of or what clothes they wear? Is this something to add to my “things that could actually happen to me on a trip” list? I really have no idea. But, be warned, hotel thieves: we have a latch thingy on our door, so you’re not getting in! I mean, it sure kept ME out…with a little help from the lady at the front desk…