 Nora's
Carolina
Moon Tour 2000
Hawley-Cooke
Louisville, Kentucky
Friday, March 17
Sometimes you just want to kill someone--mostly
anyone--in some slow, insidious, painful fashion.
Yesterday, needing to meet my escort in the
lobby at 3:35, I call about 3:23 for a bellman. Ten
minutes later, when I'm beginning to fret, the
front desk calls to apologize for the delay, and
assures me the bellman (what, they only have one?)
will be there in just a minute. Okay.
I wait until 3:45, am now late and pissed. I
must muscle my twenty ton Pullman, my carry on, my
briefcase and my big travel purse--myself--out of
the room--brace the door open with one bag, drag
out the others. Turn everything around, drag to
elevator, get in elevator, turn everything around.
As I'm dragging everything off, I see panicked
escort rushing toward me, cell-phone at her ear.
The front desk told her I'd checked out. I was
gone. Claimed, when she told them that was
impossible and to ring my room, that the room had
already been walked through and was empty. She was
about to leave, deciding I'd gotten confused about
arrangements and caught a cab to the radio station.
Meanwhile, she'd called her boss and NY to try to
track me down.
As she rushes to me and we struggle with the
bags, and I state--very clearly--that I'd called
for a bellman 30 minutes before--she starts reaming
the desk clerks. They stand like statues--silent,
gaping, as if utterly shocked to see me there.
We--rushing--with no help with the bags--as we're
going to be late for live radio, and I'm telling
her, loud enough to be heard, that the desk called
ME in my room like twenty minutes before. She was
IN the lobby waiting when they called me. Jerks.
Anyway, we get there, just a few minutes late,
and I'm on with The Flying Wine Man. LOL. Great
stuff. He has wine!! I have a small glass of a
delightful Pinot Noir. Wish he'd been there last
year when I was thinking of my wine book. We stay
on longer than scheduled, sharing the interview
because everyone's having a good time.
Escort takes me to grab a salad, a breather,
then onto the signing. I love this Hawley-Cooke
store. Very friendly, rather smallish store, big,
fun crowd. I have cookies in the shape of
shamrocks.
Get out just after nine for drive to Dayton.
Girl driver. Does fine until about the border.
She's a right hand lane driver. Obsessive about it.
So every time she comes up on a truck--of which
there are legion--she slows, passes, punches it,
moves over right. This happens just often enough to
make me queasy well before Cincy. By the time we
get to Dayton, it's nearly midnight--I'd have done
the drive in two hours, I swear--I'm reeling.
Exhausted, nauseated, close to weepy as I get only
when I'm really whipped.
Here I decide my line in the sand may be the
Doubletree in Dayton. Kind of dumpy, and at
midnight there's quite a line at registration. One
clerk who can't seem to figure out how to check
this first guy in. Time passes. Glaciers form.
Stars are born and die again. Behind the one guy is
about six young black girls. They all have take out
food. I consider offering one 20 bucks for her
fries. One of the girls has huge black loops of
hair done like paper chains piled onto each other.
They are sprayed with something that makes them
look very hard and very shiny. I'm swaying on my
feet and fascinated by this do. How does she get it
like that? How do you sleep on it?
All the girls want to go up to one room where
one of them has a mother and a baby already checked
in. Desk guy won't let them. Too many people for
one room. Conversations ensue. I want to sit on the
floor and cry. One of the girls asks to call the
room, and while this goes on, guy checks me in.
Endlessly.
I ask for a bellman. No bellman. I look at
clerk, at my pile of luggage, back at clerk. I
either hit his sympathy button, or his fear button,
but he called the parking guy to come in and help
me.
Dump everything in my room. Can barely manage to
undress for bed. Toilet's running. I fix it. Fall
into bed and pass out, to be wakened at 6:45 by
alarm clock I didn't set. This happens all the time
and I always check the alarm in a hotel room, but I
forgot. Naturally. But I fall back to sleep and
stay there until 9. I dreamed of bacon and eggs. I
don't even like bacon and eggs. LOL.
Tomorrow it's Dallas and my day off. I can make
it.
Nora
ADWOFF > NORA'S
TOURS >
CAROLINA
MOON
TOUR >
Louisville
|
