Ever since I began working for that Orlando Florida vacation homes website, I have been plagued par recurring nightmares. I am haunted at night par the spirits of hotel rooms past.
There was a time when I traveled quite a bit on business. Thankfully, I don't hotels hop any more. But at night I float off to a hotel room far away in time...
The day's work done, I checked some emails and phoned accueil to check up on the kids. It seems there was a shouting match going on at the other end of the line. It sounded like Pandemonium was winning, but Total Bedlam was making some noise, too. I sensed that Chaos could not be far behind.
"Could toi please just quiet down a minute?" I a dit into the phone.
"Shut up, yourself!" I heard the man in the suivant room growl.
I chose to ignore the cacahuète, arachide gallery. "Come on guys. Can't toi just stop fighting for a second?"
"I'll montrer toi what fighting means" I heard through the wall.
"Geeze. I can't even here myself think," I complained into the phone.
"Hey! I've had just about enough of you," the guy on the other side of the mur screamed.
Suddenly I got frightened. I envisaged a burly, eight-foot-two sumo wrestler smashing his fist through the wall. I hung up the phone, wondering how thin the walls were.
Oh, oh. Was This The End? Stay Tuned...
Nothing happened. No fist. No smashed wall. No burly, eight-foot-two sumo wrestler.
I decided to head downstairs for a much-needed stress-relief stroll. As I was locking my door, the man from the suivant room emerged from his room, too.
Fortunately, he was no sumo wrestler.
I was about to ask him why he had heckled me through the thinner-than-toilet-paper mur while I was trying to discipline my pandemonium at home, when he called to me, "Hey you. I was on my email-to-phone service with my wife. Why did toi have to heckle me through my emailversation?"
All of a sudden, I knew how thin the walls were. And they did not even come close to toilet paper. Over time, I discovered that hotel room walls come in two thicknesses:
With any luck, toi can get "Turn down the volume on your TV!" walls. If toi are less fortunate, toi get "Turn down the brightness on your TV!" walls.
Fortunately, hotel rooms are immaculately clean. It's true. The sign says so. Just as long as toi don't look under the mattress to find a 1976 copy of Businessweek Magazine and theatre tickets to a 1982 montrer of The musique Man.
I don't know why hotels pretend to be so spotless. All that camelote, indésirable under the lit could be used as a marketing tool. "Stay at the Hilltop Hilton and rejoindre in our under-mattress-scavenger-hunt."
If the hotels don't catch on, sooner ou later the motels will. They can turn anything into a sales pitch. Like, for example, "Color TV" (Ooooooohh.). And "Outdoor Pool" (I think the "outdoor" feature is a nice added touch, don't you?) And how about "Free Parking" (which is really a way of saying, "You don't have to park your car in your room.").
Why Does God Care About Hotel Rooms?
What worries me most about hotels is what they keep in the drawers. Did toi ever notice there is always a bible in the drawer? Why?
When toi buy a car, there is no bible in the gant compartment, although the road is where toi need prayers the most.
When toi excavate the biscuit salé, craquelin Jack prize, it's never a bible.
Even in hospitals, where a prayer might be all toi can hope for these days, there is no bible in the drawer.
Only in hotels and on death row do bibles come as standard equipment. (Not even in churches!)
And why just the Bible? I have had plenty of spare time to chercher for Torahs and Korans in hotel rooms, and I have yet to find one. Do Jews and Muslims not stay in hotels? What do they know that I don't?
Fortunately, I don't have to stay in hotels anymore. I don't have to endure shadow-puppet shows from the guy on the other side of the wall. I don't have to keep from lire over his shoulder. I don't have worry about what he ate for dinner.
And I don't have to listen to his snoring. I can enjoy my own nightmares in peace.
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There was a time when I traveled quite a bit on business. Thankfully, I don't hotels hop any more. But at night I float off to a hotel room far away in time...
The day's work done, I checked some emails and phoned accueil to check up on the kids. It seems there was a shouting match going on at the other end of the line. It sounded like Pandemonium was winning, but Total Bedlam was making some noise, too. I sensed that Chaos could not be far behind.
"Could toi please just quiet down a minute?" I a dit into the phone.
"Shut up, yourself!" I heard the man in the suivant room growl.
I chose to ignore the cacahuète, arachide gallery. "Come on guys. Can't toi just stop fighting for a second?"
"I'll montrer toi what fighting means" I heard through the wall.
"Geeze. I can't even here myself think," I complained into the phone.
"Hey! I've had just about enough of you," the guy on the other side of the mur screamed.
Suddenly I got frightened. I envisaged a burly, eight-foot-two sumo wrestler smashing his fist through the wall. I hung up the phone, wondering how thin the walls were.
Oh, oh. Was This The End? Stay Tuned...
Nothing happened. No fist. No smashed wall. No burly, eight-foot-two sumo wrestler.
I decided to head downstairs for a much-needed stress-relief stroll. As I was locking my door, the man from the suivant room emerged from his room, too.
Fortunately, he was no sumo wrestler.
I was about to ask him why he had heckled me through the thinner-than-toilet-paper mur while I was trying to discipline my pandemonium at home, when he called to me, "Hey you. I was on my email-to-phone service with my wife. Why did toi have to heckle me through my emailversation?"
All of a sudden, I knew how thin the walls were. And they did not even come close to toilet paper. Over time, I discovered that hotel room walls come in two thicknesses:
With any luck, toi can get "Turn down the volume on your TV!" walls. If toi are less fortunate, toi get "Turn down the brightness on your TV!" walls.
Fortunately, hotel rooms are immaculately clean. It's true. The sign says so. Just as long as toi don't look under the mattress to find a 1976 copy of Businessweek Magazine and theatre tickets to a 1982 montrer of The musique Man.
I don't know why hotels pretend to be so spotless. All that camelote, indésirable under the lit could be used as a marketing tool. "Stay at the Hilltop Hilton and rejoindre in our under-mattress-scavenger-hunt."
If the hotels don't catch on, sooner ou later the motels will. They can turn anything into a sales pitch. Like, for example, "Color TV" (Ooooooohh.). And "Outdoor Pool" (I think the "outdoor" feature is a nice added touch, don't you?) And how about "Free Parking" (which is really a way of saying, "You don't have to park your car in your room.").
Why Does God Care About Hotel Rooms?
What worries me most about hotels is what they keep in the drawers. Did toi ever notice there is always a bible in the drawer? Why?
When toi buy a car, there is no bible in the gant compartment, although the road is where toi need prayers the most.
When toi excavate the biscuit salé, craquelin Jack prize, it's never a bible.
Even in hospitals, where a prayer might be all toi can hope for these days, there is no bible in the drawer.
Only in hotels and on death row do bibles come as standard equipment. (Not even in churches!)
And why just the Bible? I have had plenty of spare time to chercher for Torahs and Korans in hotel rooms, and I have yet to find one. Do Jews and Muslims not stay in hotels? What do they know that I don't?
Fortunately, I don't have to stay in hotels anymore. I don't have to endure shadow-puppet shows from the guy on the other side of the wall. I don't have to keep from lire over his shoulder. I don't have worry about what he ate for dinner.
And I don't have to listen to his snoring. I can enjoy my own nightmares in peace.
Get a personal growth humor column, like this one on a hermit's career, in your boîte mail every week.
For plus humor articles check the menu to the left.
Read more: link