Hopping on a Plane!

Yesterday, I hopped on a plane. Literally. They escorted me off of the plane and made me take a breathalyzer. Who knew hopping on a plane wasn't a thing?

I used to fly a lot. Like every other day. No kidding. That kind of traveling gets very old, very fast. Canceled flights, delays that cause you to miss your connecting flight, security lines...

Every city and hotel began to look the same. I decided to cut way back on the travel when I woke up one morning and couldn't remember the city I was in. I thought I was in Chicago, but it turned out to be Pittsburgh. I didn't even know what month it was.

I know that sounds ridiculous, but I swear it's true. I've met other people with the same issue, although most of them were locked up. Seriously, if you have spent long periods of time on the road, you know what I'm talking about.

So, I needed to start making each experience different. For example, I was in Montreal for a few days. It was snowing heavily. The hotel was old and kind of mysterious, so I decided to investigate the place.

I left my room and decided to take the stairs as a start and see where they took me. I started checking out the different floors because none of them was like another which was very unusual, right? This place was cool.

As I opened the last door at the bottom of the staircase, I found myself in a small room with only an emergency exit. Time to turn around and go back up. To open the door to the stairs, I needed my room key that was sitting on a table in my room. Not smart.

Ah, my cell phone! I could call the front desk and have someone open the door for me. Only I didn't bring my cell phone either. Proof that I am a moron. What to do. All I could do was to go through the emergency exit. So I did.

The door would barely open, so I really had to push hard. I was finally able to squeeze through the door, only to fall down in knee deep snow. I stood up and began to assess my situation. The alarm was crazy loud and I didn't want anyone to know that I set it off because I was an idiot.

I was on a side of the hotel which had no sidewalks to reach the lobby. There was, however, the fine restaurant to my immediate right. It was my only choice. The problem was there was no door for me to open. There was, once again, only an emergency exit door. That meant that I had to get someone's attention, and quickly because I was getting very cold.

So I went to the windows of this fine dining room and began knocking on the windows. I was wet from falling in the snow, completely disheveled from the fall. I'm sure I looked like a lunatic trying to get into the restaurant, so people ignored me. No one had arrived to check the door and reset the alarm, so all I could do was knock harder on the glass.

Finally, a disgruntled diner got the attention of the waiter, who got the manager, who finally let me in. It was more than just a little embarrassing walking through this great restaurant filled with people dressed to the nines, a term that I don't even understand.

After a long conversation with the manager, I was able to convince him that I was a guest at the hotel. Why did I have to convince him? Because I also left my wallet in my room. That was the last time I explored the mystery of a hotel.

I chalked the whole thing up to being a madman from so much travel. Turns out that I really am just a knucklehead.

See you tomorrow.

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