So, to round off my blog posts about Cybermummy '11 I thought you might like to hear about a little adventure I had in the hotel during the night.
But first I must set the scene.
The lift at the Travelodge, City Road, London is the hottest and most stupidest lift ever made. No matter what floor you are on when you request the lift it will go from bottom to top (Floor 7) and then all the way back down again, stopping at each floor on the way. Sometimes you may be lucky and only go up to Floor 5. But, no matter what time of the day or night it is, the temperature in the lift is bordering on being able to melt titanium. Our room was on Floor 1.
I had ventured out for the evening wearing jeans and my now-famous t-shirt. Iconic or Ironic - you decide:
|Picture credit: Tara Cain. |
The chesticles and the double chin are all mine!
We partook in some laughs and drinks and retired to our room at god-only-knows what hour. The last thing I remember doing is taking off my jeans and lying face down on the bed. The last thing I remember hearing is Manda saying, "Don't let me go on Facebook at stupid o'clock!"
I woke up suddenly and checked my phone. It was 6.02am. I clambered out of bed, tripped over 14 Cybermummy goodie bags, stumbled towards the bathroom in a still semi-inebriated state and lurched through the door. I heard a click as it closed behind me and realised I was in the corridor wearing only a "social networking ruined my life" t-shirt and big white knickers.
*knock knock knock* loud whisper: Manda, let me in. MANDA!*knock knock knock* slightly louder: MANDA! FOR FUCKS SAKE! MANDA! MANDA!*knock knock knock* quite loud for 6am: MANDA... MANDA... MANDA... oh fuck it.
I looked left and right, held my slightly too-short t-shirt down so that it covered my Blogger's Paunch and scuttled to the lift.
The lift took AGES to arrive. It went all the way to Floor 5 and stayed there. I jabbed the button and waited. It came down slowly, floor by floor. I hopped in and pressed the button for the ground floor. I looked in the mirror in the lift and realised what a state I looked. Make-up half way down my face, a t-shirt that wasn't long enough, milk bottle white legs, slightly too overweight to be running around a London hotel at 6am. And I was sweating buckets.
The lift went all the way back up to Floor 5, stopping at each floor on the way and opening its doors, exposing me to whoever might be stood there (luckily, no-one), then finally arrived at the reception area. I did a sort of scuttle-shuffle type walk up to the concierge, lolled on the desk and whispered
"I'm really sorry. I'm still drunk and I've locked myself out of my room."
After confirming my name, the receptionist gave me another keycard, I glanced around to see cleaners getting on with their business and a few people walking past the front door doing that 'looking but not really looking' double-take thing.
I legged it back through the door from reception, jumped into Lift Tropicana, pressed the button for Floor 1, went all the way up to Floor 5 without stopping then back down to Floor 1 one floor at a time.
I wobbled through the door of our hotel room to find Manda curled up like a little caterpillar in the duvet on her bed, oblivious to everything. I looked like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards and had a bucket of water thrown at me. I collapsed onto my bed and back into a coma.
The noise of a shower running woke me up. I had no idea what time it was and was convinced it had all been a terrible dream. That was until I saw TWO keycards on the bedside table, next to my phone...