We lived in a huge hotel – possibly an American Hilton or Marriott – in a room that we shared with a disabled lady. She was a permanent resident, whereas for us this was only meant to be home for a short time.
I found it very difficult to sleep here and often wandered the corridors in the early hours, dressed in my lime green crocs and pink onesie. Nobody seemed to notice me – not even the smartly dressed business guests as they checked into the hotel first thing in the morning after overnight flights.
One night I lost my room key. Without it I couldn’t remember our room number, and ended up opening and closing random bedroom doors trying to find TPR and all our belongings. I was surprised at how many people left their hotel doors open, and that none of the hotel staff questioned what I was doing.
The same day I comforted PC after a guest accidentally slammed a fire door in his face and gave him a black eye.
Dreamaticus 