Use Cation… hypocrite crossing ahead
Ok… so I did a little introspection yesterday and it seems I may be a bit of a hypocrite. But I’m hoping my willingness to cop a guilty plea of being one will lessen the severity of the crime. No…? Oh well, here’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Alas, there was a time when I did indeed take the lazy road and ventured outside of our hotel room in my pajamas. Now, in my defense I think the fact that I was technically still “inside” and not “out” as in driving somewhere, my crime is somewhat less reprehensible. It happened not too long after the Las Vegas laundry incident while we were staying at Quality Inn hotel in Mt. Vernon, Washington. Yes, nothing but the finest accommodations for this chick.
Let me preface this little confession by filling you in on a little something I’ve learned with our many hotels stays in what can only be considered less than stellar establishments. I’m still not sure why, but for whatever reason we used to have issues with the key cards at just about all of the hotels where we stayed. It was so frustrating. I used to always double-check with the front desk clerks whenever I extended our reservations to make sure the room keys were re-programmed as well. Most times I brought the key cards down with me and handed them over only to have the clerk say something like “No, you’re fine with those”… usually not the case.
Anyway, on one particular morning in an effort to beat any other guests to the only two washing machines on site, I rolled out of bed at 6:45, threw on sweatpants and a hoodie over my nightie and slipped on sneakers without any socks (eww… I know) and left the room with my dirty laundry, detergent and key card. Hooray! I could see through the window in the door the machines were empty. I actually did a little happy dance as I slipped the key card into the lock. After the third attempt and no green light I realized my key wasn’t working. WTF?
In order to get to the laundry room I had schlepped the pile of dirty clothes, the jug of laundry soap, and my little Vera Bradley change purse – jingling full of quarters, by the Breakfast Room and up two flights of stairs. On the way up I did a quick peek in the room. It was filled with the usual suspects, bleary-eyed travelers loading up on free stale muffins and hockey puck bagels. Naturally, not wanting to leave my stuff in the hallway for fear of those cunning dirty laundry bandits, I had to carry it all back down the stairs and by the dreaded diners enjoying their budget friendly continental breakfasts. I finally made it back to our room only to find out the key didn’t work on the door to our room either.
There was no way around it – I had to get to the front desk for a new key. That meant… yes, you guessed it. With the lacy hem of my nightie hanging lower than my hoodie, my boobs swaying back and forth with high beams all aglow (it’s cold in the Pacific Northwest at that time of the morning!) and my untied laces trailing behind me, I once again took the walk of shame past the flippin’ breakfast nook to get to the front desk and get the key reset. And yes… of course there was someone checking out and I had to wait; standing there in the lobby, in my pajamas, holding the hubby’s dirty smelly work clothes.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or pissed that the guy from the day before wasn’t behind the counter. On the one hand I wanted to tell him off in a sing-song I told you so kind of way, but the truth is I probably wouldn’t have been a bitch at all. I would have just smiled and said “That’s ok, no worries.” I almost never bitch about anything… well to strangers that is. I’m sure the hubs and my kids would beg to differ with me!
So now that I’ve come clean I feel better. I still have issues with the whole pajamas in public deal. If that makes me a hypocrite so be it.
That’s all for now