I was sorting pictures today and came across this one which made me laugh. For New Year’s Eve we were staying in this fancy-shmancy hotel that Jerry got a really good deal on. And it was like, you know, one of those REALLY fancy ones where you walk in, gasp, quickly remove your ratty-looking coat, hope there’s no mud on your shoes, make sure your hair is all in place, and then stand up a little straighter and do your best to act like you know what you’re doing even though you’re terrified that you’ll break some unwritten rule of the rich or something…you know, one of those places? We felt like royalty in our sky-scraper hotel, watching the toy vehicles below…but I think I posted about that already, ’cause it sounds familiar.
Anyway, before we checked out the next morning we did a little tour of the place. Being the good little Siebert descendant that I am, I was taking lots of pictures, so tried to take this one of the entrance to our floor after Jerry got out of the elevator. Then the doors closed.
No problem, right? WRONG! You need your room card to make the elevator go anywhere. And I had given mine to Jerry! So I’m standing, speechless and shocked, and suddenly the elevator moves. Down I go a couple floors, where some other people got on. I decided being blunt was the best way to get this over with quickly, so said, “Hey! How are you all? I have a problem! My husband’s up there, and I’m here, and I don’t have a card to get back, so would you mind taking me back??!” They laughed at me. Oh well. They’re strangers. I’ll never see them again for the rest of my life. (I hope) The man punched my floor number in, but the lady cocked her head and said, “Hmm, I don’t know — you might be a terrorist!” “Do I look like one?!” I asked. Apparently not, ’cause they took me back to my waiting husband, where I quickly got off and thanked them for rescuing me.
So we went back to the country and I lived happily ever after, after discovering that life in the city does not suit me!