1995-ish - Sue and I had spent the entire day in a bar In New Orleans - the bartender was developing a new drink called a Georgia Pirate. He passed his developmental stages down the bar to us to drink and critique. He wanted to get it right, so there were LOTS of developmental drinks to be had. Free booze - WOO WOO!
Somehow, we got back to our hotel but spent the next half hour looking for our room. We knew it was there somewhere. But we couldn't find it after circling the entire floor about a dozen times. Finally, inibriated and embarassed, we asked a bellman walking down the hall where room 406 was ... he looked at us like we were idiots, paused, and pointed right behind us. We'd walked past it a dozen times in the last half hour. Oh, THERE it is.
The "Indian name" our friends had given me years before is "Loses Keys at Check-In". I must admit it is an appropriate name for me ... I was NOT allowed to have a hotel room key because, well, I ALWAYS lost it within about 5 minutes of checking in. But I'd never lost the entire damned room before! ... actually, that's not true. My favorite room was at a hotel in Nashville, room #1234 - that I COULD remember and find, regardless of my condition.
One of our friends was worse than that though. So much so that when we were on a trip and he got his room and knew his room number, we'd go have a button made for him to wear for the weekend that said, "If found, please return to room (whatever his room number was)". It WORKED several times and he was escorted to the right room in the middle of the night.
There's just so much I need to warn you about - And yet, tragically, I cannot.
3 weeks ago