I’m sitting amongst the Continental Breakfast crowd in the “pub” room at our hotel, while the crew films Robin cleaning my room. This place is packed. Our whole hotel is booked with a high school wrestling team from God knows where, and I think they all just passed through here, doing their carbo-loading or whatever it is that wrestlers do to stay big.
I am so tired, I could literally just lean over and fall asleep right here. In fact, I wouldn’t even have to lean. The quad-shot cappuccino is doing nothing for me.
You know how when you’re really tired, loud sounds can be physically painful? If yes, I hope you never have to be exiled to the continental breakfast room of the Country Inn and Suites. There’s this waffle iron in the back that keeps going off, and people are banging huge trash bags around, and like twenty-five people all talking at once and the weather channel on TV. Nothing in the world is worse than the weather channel, except for maybe certain AM radio stations. It’s like, a neverending idiot loop of mindless chatter and elevator music.
Plus, my feet itch. And it’s cold in here. There’s a door in the pub that leads out to a patio… and it’s -16 outside. Every time somebody opens the door, it feels like I’m being swaddled in a blanket made of ice water. God. Fucking. Dammit.