It's A Small World

It's indeed a small world when you live in a hotel room. A confined space holding within it two beds, night stand, chair, ottoman, desk, and TV stand; that is my new residence for three and a half weeks at a time. After a hard days work and dinner with colleagues, this is the kingdom I return to for rest and recovery from the daily struggles.

Key card slipped in and out of the door lock, a flick of the light switch, and the empty room welcomes me. Once inside, a bright orange Hooter's sign stares at me from outside the window across from my bed. The endless, senseless ramblings of TV noise help to make me feel like I am not alone.

I check my three email accounts. I call my sweetheart to get an update on the things that happened back home. I surf the Internet. I read a book. I open the complimentary USA Today, left outside my door each morning, for things of importance to me, like the weather or late night TV programs (just in case I can't sleep later). I've got to get out...

A trip to the hot tub feels like a major outing. But after the 15 minutes mandated by the safety sign above the tub, it is back to the room. I'd swim laps but the pool is so small I'd have to swim 40 laps just to get in the same workout as a normal sized pool.

A handful of people are in the bar watching an NBA game on TV as I pass by; they are laughing and joking with each other. A few more people are hanging around the lounge in the foyer. One man, luggage and computer case trailing behind, raps on the bell on the front desk to summons the desk clerk to check him into his room after a long day of airline connections.

That's about all the excitement a guy can take. It's a spartan existence, but someone has to do it.