Again… the names are changed to protect the not so innocent.
True story by B. From his last trip to San Diego. The evening started at the Gaslamp Tavern. As it almost always does. He had been drinking a little at the tavern, but went back to his room early and went to bed. He got up around midnight to go to the bathroom, but instead of opening the bathroom door and going into the bathroom, he opened the front door and stepped into the hall. He didn’t realize (i.e. wake up enough) what happened until the door shut behind him. There he is in his shorts only without a key. Or ID. He has to go to the front desk to get a new room key. And they give him trouble… he asks, “Do I look like a vagrant?” Of course he does. In the lobby, nothing but shorts. At midnight. And the Hilton is still busy at midnight. And he still has to go to the bathroom. But he gets his key.
Of course he told me the story while sitting at the Gaslamp Tavern. I laughed so hard I almost fell off my chair. And that is why I put the chain on my door at night in a hotel. Not to keep people out, but to keep me in. Now that he told the story, I’m sure somewhere in my unconscious it will be sitting there telling me to open the hall door instead of the bathroom door.
One thought on “Stories from the Road”
Of course I need to ammend the story… The problem with getting old, one forgets the details. Thanks to Sarah C. for reminding me that I was told the story at the Dublin Square Irish Pub not Gaslamp Tavern. Of course I’m pretty sure it was retold at the Gaslamp Tavern later that week.