A Comedy of Errors
Last Thursday, I traveled to Orlando to help set up my first trade show. I love manual labor, so had a fantastic time. Good clean sweat and muscle makes the body feel alive — especially when there’s a cool tangible outcome! Anyhoo, Mike was left in the bitter cold of Rochester to look after the house and go to work while I worked 12-hour days and got to party it up in the evenings.
On Sunday, in the middle of opening day, Mike called. The conversation was of mundane caliber until I heard him exclaim, “OH CRAP!” (or some other colorful phrase). At that instant, he had locked himself out of the house. (New household rule: NEVER chat on the phone when you’re leaving to go out. Wait till you get in the car!) Moments later, my cell phone died without warning. I didn’t catch up with him until after dinner, hours later. Instead of breaking in, he decided to spend the evening at Phaedra and Lance’s place and spend $90 bucks at Target, so that he’d have something to wear to work the next day. No problem. I could let him in on Monday evening.
Sunday was my birthday and somehow I made it back to my room after last call and a string of shots purchased for me at the hotel bar. Naturally, I struggled a bit to pack up my bags on Monday morning. At the airport, as I stood in line to get my boarding pass, I glanced around at all the folks carrying jackets. Oh yeah! I was going back up North where it was cold… but MY jacket!? Where was it? IN THE ARMOIRE AT THE HOTEL — and my keys? WERE IN THE POCKET! Panic washed over me for a millisecond, and then I laughed. Crap like that only happens in bad sitcoms and I was living it. I decided not to tell Mike, because I thought he might freak out. I called the hotel and made arrangements to have my forgotten belongings FedEx-ed back to my house. For the rest of the day, between naps, I plotted about how I’d break into the house.
Unfortunately, Mike and Phaedra met me at the airport instead of giving me the opportunity to do all the dirty work on the sly. BUSTED! When I told him the whole sordid story, he was incredulous, but he thought it was funny. Long story short, we finally made it home. Mike pulled the safety hammer out of his car and we broke ourselves back into the house. True. Story.
Happy belated birthday!! Sorry I am a little behind the 8-ball…hope you forgive me :o)
Happy Birthday! Welcome to the 2-9!
(this is why spare keys are givin’ to friends and ‘stupid checks’ are conducted prior to leaving hotel rooms :))