My Circus Moment

Ahhh. A nice, quiet suite at the fairly new Mariott. For the next 24-48 hours I would avoid hearing, “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.” I drove down the freshly-paved lane between rows of evenly-spaced Bradford Pear trees, imagining the beautiful, white flower clusters they bear in the spring. Refreshing. Until I exited the Tahoe and melted into the 105 degree heat index. Carrying only my laptop and a grilled chicken Caesar salad from Wendy's, I entered through the automatic doors three hours before check-in, having confused check-in and check-out times. Duh. I needed to get out more. Nevertheless, the pleasant lady at the front desk found a clean room and gave me my keycard to twenty-four hours of blissful, unscheduled, quiet calmness.

The smell of new carpet and cleaning supplies contrasted nicely against the household fragrances I had left behind: trash that needed taken out, Hannah's potty-covered sheets (yes, Mom, I'm aware of my ongoing role in that little problem), and camping items still strewn about the house.

The elevator that took me to my fourth floor penthouse (OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a little) opened immediately and closed just as quickly after I stepped in. I barely hobbled through in time, but no worries. Thankfully I located my room just two doors down from the elevator, so I didn't have far to walk before fumbling with my keycard to calmness. After fourteen tries, I finally unlocked the door and entered my retreat.

I unpacked my lunch, turned on the tube and spent the next forty-five minutes feeling afraid that I wouldn't figure out how to enjoy this limited solitude. Should I swim in the pool? Read a book? Find a movie? Take a nap? Even though I had only slept four hours the night before, taking a nap was out. Time was too precious.

After my forty-five-minute fret, I decided to return to the Tahoe for the poster-making supplies I had purchased earlier that day as well as my suitcase, and then to stop by The Market (the Marriot's version of a micro-mini-grocery store) for a couple of bottled waters and granola bars before returning to my room.

I hadn't realized how dependent I had become on Carl and the girls. I could have used an extra pair of hands--or one of those rolling, suitcase-carrying thingys. Instead, I held my cane and two shrink-wrapped packages of 18" x 24"poster board in my left hand and two bottles of water under my left arm. ON my left arm I hung my bag of poster-making supplies and my little black purse containing my granola bars in its outside pocket while I pushed my suitcase with my right hand. I should join the circus.

Slowly I limped to the elevator and entered as the door slid against my butt, propelling me slightly forward. I had barely turned my circus show around to exit the elevator when the doors opened. Knowing how quickly they would close, I rushed through. I don't "rush" well. First my poster board packages fell onto the elevator doorway. Reaching down to pick them up, both bottles of water dropped and rolled out into the hallway. What to do?! Of course the lightning-speed elevator doors closed onto my bent-over behind, nearly thrusting me into the hallway before they automatically bounced back into place like elevator doors do. But not before they crushed one of my poster board packages.

I only had seconds. I picked up the poster board only to have my granola bars slip out of my purse. Again the elevator doors closed on me, only this time they didn't stop! Crap! I leapt back into the elevator, pushed the "door-open" button and tried to grab two packages and two granola bars off of the floor with my curled-up hands. That time when the door tried to make a human sandwich out of me it started screaming a constant, high-pitched alarm that seemed to say, "Come One! Come All! See the Amazing Angela attempt to get her a** out of the elevator! Witness comedy and danger simultaneously! Come One! Come All!"

I hopped back in and dropped stuff again, but this time the alarm continued even after I pushed the door-open button, so I kicked everything out of the elevator and jumped to safety in the hallway, nearly leaving my shoe in the process. I also don't “jump” well.

I said that I kicked out "everything." That's not quite true. My suitcase remained in the elevator, descending to some unknown lower level. I quickly pushed the hallway down-arrow button, but the elevator had had enough of me. Rejected. No response.

As I waited for it to return to the fourth floor, I heard a woman walking towards me, talking on a cell phone, saying, "I'm sorry I have the wrong number. I forgot what to dial--this is the wrong number." Pause. "Wrong. Number. So sorry." After I heard her phone close, she mumbled, "I can't believe I forgot his number." When she came into sight we said our hellos and she said, "Isn't this stupid? I forgot my husband's cell phone number."

"Not really. Stupid is leaving your suitcase in the elevator."

She looked at me blankly.

"I couldn't get my suitcase out of the elevator before it closed. It's riding down to the lobby right now."

After recognition registered on her face, she laughed out loud. At least someone was laughing. Actually, I was laughing, too. It was all pretty ridiculous.

When the elevator opened, MY SUITCASE WASN'T THERE!

"Oh no. Your suitcase isn't here." No sh**, Sherlock. "Maybe someone took it to the front desk."

"You're probably right. I'm going to leave this stuff at my room before I search for it." With that the doors closed, taking my temporary acquaintance in the direction of my suitcase.

I began to panic a little. My medicine was in that bag. What if someone stole it? What's going to happen to my peaceful evening? Oh no. Oh no. I dropped my salvaged items in front of my door. No time to fumble with poorly-swiped keycards. I successfully hurried into the elevator, even though I don't “hurry” well, and punched the STAR-1 button for the lobby. For unknown reasons the elevator stopped at the third floor and magically opened its doors like I was part of a Bob Barker game show, revealing my lonely, abandoned suitcase. Hurrah!

With only one item to manage, I easily maneuvered the suitcase to my room, swiped my keycard fourteen more times, kicked everything into the room, dropped the bag right in front of the door and fell onto the bed in adrenaline-induced exhaustion.

So much for my peaceful evening.

Note: Everything improved after that. After I finish this post, I'm checking out, doing a little Wal-Mart shopping (gag, ack, yuck) and returning to my lovely family. I can hear their cherubic voices already...

Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.