Friday, February 16, 2007

"But there's no robe"

What's it like to be me when I'm travelling for work, you want to know? OK. Here's the full, not-even-slightly-redacted text of an email I sent to two friends (one of whom had gotten me the gig) from one trip.


Plane: three hours late

Landing in Chicago: Aborted when we were only a couple hundred feet in the air because there was another plane at the end of the runway. We got the aerial version of whiplash.

Hotel: On the outskirts of fucking nowhere, 50 minutes out of Chicago. It's like they claimed an event was in Boston, but it was really in Hopkinton. No Internet access (I'm stealing/borrowing it from the office park the hotel is in). In the closet there's a tag on a hangar that says the robe is $95, but there's no robe. In the bathroom, no shampoo or conditioner, but four bottles of a mouthwash called "Whisper Mint."

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