I had been working all day with the NASA folks, and I got back intending to take a run and perhaps a dip in the pool before going for dinner. I was feeling pretty good about myself, lookin’ sharp in the shades, khakis, and pressed collar shirt. Solving problems for a living and all that. I casually opened the sliding door to my third floor patio, stepped out to breathe and decompress, and shut the door behind me to save on the air conditioning.
Yeah, I locked myself on the porch at the hotel.
I knew as soon as I heard the “click,” how things were going to play out … but I entertained a few other options first: I thought about how long it might take to die out there. I could just give up. In their haste to get to the body, they might not notice that the door had been locked … but I discarded that idea pretty quickly. Even dehydration would take longer than I had before housekeeping discovered me.
I called to chat, and pass the time, thinking that maybe the situation would resolve itself … but she was eating dinner and didn’t pick up.
I looked across the courtyard and saw a couple of other men on their porches, reading, so I sat down in the chair and chilled out. Mmmmmmm. I considered striking up a conversation but decided against it. “Hey!” “Hey?” “Yeah … does your door open?”
Still locked on the porch. Third floor. I took some time to examine the opposite side of the courtyard and decided that there was no way I was scaling the sheer stucco. Wrought iron would have given me a chance. See for a discussion of the merits of stucco in these situations.
Finally, I bit the bullet and called the front desk from my cell phone. They agreed to send the maintenance guy up, but not before the whole front desk crew had come out by the pool to wave at me. “Hi!” “hi.” “Hey!” “hi.”
I’m writing this from the bar.
