Friday, June 08, 2007

Feeling misanthropic

There is nothing like staying in a cheap hotel at the weekend to fuel your hated of your fellow man and woman. I knew we were in for trouble when we saw gangs of youths carrying cheap luggage taking up all the space in the lobby. They all looked excited and happy, in preparation for their Saturday night out. To quote Coco Peru, I hate happy people - they make so much noise.

At 6pm the hotel corridors all had a sweet, heavy, herbal smell, even the non-smoking floors, and there were shrieks of laughter coming from most of the rooms around us.

As I was suffering from the effects of my wisdom toothectemy, I decided to have room service (which I used to consider to be a treat, but actually the food is usually a bit disappointing). "You've ordered a burger - you get a free drink with that!" said the voice on the phone. "Would you like a bottle of Budweiser or a glass of wine?" "I don't drink alcohol," I said. "Could I have something else like a coke?" "No, you can only have Budweiser or wine," said the room service person (translation "Britain has one of the highest rates of binge drinking in the world and we are determined to keep it that way thankyou".)

We went to bed at 11pm. At 3.30am all the youths returned from Fluid, Liquid and Climax. They did not go to bed though, but instead lollopped in and out of each other's bedrooms for the next hour. Doors banged. Voices were raised. The scary sleeping tablets I'd bought in Hong Kong (the ones that make you instantly fall into a dreamless black hole for 12 hours and then you wake up with a completely different personality) were no match for their merry singing and bawling.

At 9am in the morning we woke up. I had a bit of a moan on about "inconsiderate young people". And then as we stepped out into the corridor, something snapped and I decided to fight back by letting the door to my own hotel room slam. Twice.

My fella was suffering from hayever. He has the loudest sneeze you have ever heard. When he blows his nose small animals run for cover, expecting an imminent elephant stampede. Usually, when he blows his nose in public (which is often), I assume a pained expression and look away. However, that morning, for once, I was delighted. "Go and stand outside that bedroom door and blow your nose again, as loudly as you like," I told him. He did so. I defy anyone to sleep through that.

It was a rather childish form of revenge, but I did feel much better for it. If I ever stay in that hotel again, next time I will take with me a tape recording of Cliff Richard's greatest hits and play it through the adjoining door from 6 in the morning.

1 comment:

KAZ said...

And I can just imagine what the free wine would have tasted like.
I do hope that hotel wasn't in Manchester