We’ve been living in the Best Western in Rockville, MD lately, though in fact today Lisa Costello and I are decamping for Ocean City, MD for a quiet week before plunging back into the busy-ness of NIH and my clinical trial. But given my career of the past fifteen years or so (both Day Jobbe and writing, come to think of it), I’ve spent probably 1,500 or 2,000 nights in hotels in that time. I’ve experienced almost everything you might expect to in that time.
This morning one of the perils of hotel living was brought back to me in force. At 5:30 am on a Saturday, the alarm in the room next door went off at full volume. A series of beeps, followed by the jangle of a radio not quite tuned in properly. Loud enough to wake me from a these-days-rare sound sleep. After a couple of minutes, I got up and investigated. It was even louder in the hall.
Sometimes people check out and leave the alarm turned on. So I called down to the front desk and got no answer. I got dressed and took myself down to the lobby, where I found the night clerk and spoke to him. He said someone was checked in to the room next door. A few minutes later, heard loud knocking.
That damned alarm blared from 5:30 to 6:12 before cutting out. Later, when I went down to breakfast, I could still hear the radio through my neighbor’s door, though it was no longer blasting through the wall between us.
Hearing impaired? Ill? So drunk they couldn’t react to their alarm? Anti-social idiot? I’ll never know.
But yeah, this is the glamor.