travelogue 8

“hello. is that reception? ah good, you see, I’ve just been out with some lovely work colleagues talking about data architecture models and functional spec politics to a place that does orange beer and things like that which was really near to place that you can play indoor luminous golf in the dark, oh, you know the place, haha, anyway yes, so, I probably had a couple of shandies and got a lift back in Kristen’s seat-warming multi-function space station, at which point I made for the elevator where I pushed all the buttons at once to see what happens and now I think I’m on the 7th floor but I have absolutely no idea where 730 is and I appear to have lost the will and wit to actually find out. could you be a super chappy and send somebody up to help me out? I think I’m near, but everything looks so far. yes, 730. mr caynes. that’s me. ok, I’ll hold…”

in the end I just crawled my way along the hideous 70s carpet like something out of splinter cell until I reached the end of the corridor and as luck would have it, just before I hit the fire escape where I may have taken the splinter cell thing a bit too far by trying to rappel down the wall and hanging in a dark corner of the lobby until a receptionist wandered past and I snapped their neck with my legs, there was 730 with my door key already stuck in the lock and the sound of the tv filtering under the door. I guess I’d already been back to the room at some point and raided the imported fruit and nut supply that I was supposed to give to Julie and my blood suger level shot off some dial somewhere which was why I was jibbering around the corridors like a loon, looking for bottled water that I already have in my room. either that or I just really needed to go to sleep. or I already was asleep. all work and no play makes jack a dull boy…