Well, Stephanie at the Yarn Harlot deserves to take a bow. I'm still wiping away giddy tears from this story of one of her recent travel adventures.
I woke up the next morning, and feeling somewhat restored, I decided to tidy the hotel room. I sorted some yarn, and I took up the room service tray to put outside the door. I opened the door, put the tray on the ground and heard a little "Click" behind me. That was the door locking. I was locked in the hall. Was my room key in my pants pocket? Yes it was. However, that realization was of no use to me, because I was not wearing my pants.In fact, all I was wearing was a bra and underpants. (Not even good underpants. I should really try to do better.) This sick realization swept over me as I stood, pressed against the door to the room trying to pass my molecules through it to the other side. Then I tried to pick the lock with the room service knife. Then I realized that I needed a new plan.
A house phone? Maybe the hotel had a house phone on my floor. I sprinted along the hall looking for it. No luck, and when I heard the elevator chime, I flattened myself against the ice machine until whoever it was went away.
Standing there, in my undergarments, almost naked and sort of frozen to the ice machine, both spiritually and literally, I realized that this was going to end badly. That there was nothing I could do to end it well, and that all I could do was try and end it with dignity, grace and speed. I snuck (in as much as a half crazy mostly naked woman can sneak) back down the hall to the service area and snagged a smallish towel. I wrapped it around me and returned to the elevator. I took a deep breath, stepped inside and pushed the button for the lobby.
Nothing happened. Oh, silly me. YOU NEED A KEY TO WORK THE ELEVATOR. While I was standing there, stunned that I was truly screwed, wondering when I was going to get smart enough that these things don't happen to me, and contemplating the "emergency use only" phone.
A gentleman got on the elevator. He looked at me, looked straight ahead and then said only "Hi." "Hi" I replied, (noticing for the first time that the elevator was completely mirrored - so I could view my humiliation from all angles) . "I appear to have misplaced my key. Would you mind swiping your card for the lobby?" "Sure" he said, and we rode in silence all the way down.
When we got the to lobby, the door opened, the gentleman stepped off and I tried to. I really did. I willed myself to move but was paralyzed, looking at all the people. I stood there. I just stood there. After a minute, the guy was back. "Would you like me to tell someone you are in here?" he asked.
"Oh. Yes. That would be lovely. Thanks so much." I said, with as much of that aforementioned dignity as I could muster, and off he went. I waited, until what seemed like forever later, the concierge popped his head in and said "Excuse me madame. If you could tell us your room number?" I gave it to him, and moments later he was back. I will be forever grateful to him for the way he handed me the key. He simply passed it to me, exactly like I wasn't wearing a towel in the elevator and said "Enjoy your stay." Just like that.
When I got back to the room (after wishing some elderly couple in the hallway a "good afternoon") I had a lie down. A long lie down. Then I put on better underpants.
You never know.
So, chickies, next time you run out of things to be grateful for, remember that this has never happened to you.
Hat tip: Julie.
Imagine if the poor woman had opened her back door, stark naked, to pick up the newspaper and had it lock behind her. This happened to a work supervisor I had many years ago.
Oh, my goodness!!!!!
I snorted Diet Coke up my nose, thank you very much.
Just once in my life I wish I could write a sentence like the one she wrote about trying to squeeze her molecules back through the door.
But I don't want to have to have that experience to do it! Tee hee!
OK, I thiiinnnk I'm through laughing enough to type striaghtht. OK, maybe not.
(I haven't laughed that loud in a while. Thanks.)