After yesterday's serious post, some of you need a little levity. I know I do.
I endeavor to bring it before this post is over. Hang in there.
First, you need a little backstory though.
On the Friday afternoon of RollerCon 2013 after watching some fantastic high level derby on the main track, I headed back to my hotel room to shower and have a power nap before we embarked on another evening of fun on the Strip. Once safely triple-locked in the privacy of my room, I threw my hotel key on the dresser instead of putting it back in the pouch on my lanyard as I had since Wednesday.
I procrastinated for a few minutes. I had a drink of water. I looked at GroupMe on my phone and caught up with my derby peeps back home and in Vegas. I might have read a few updates on Facebook. Checked my email. I looked through my RollerCon guide to see what classes and bouts were scheduled for Saturday. I read a few ads and then picked up the book I was reading (Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford) and quickly got caught up in the story of Henry and Keiko during the Japanese internment.
Big mistake. Huge.
After several engaging chapters I started to nod off a little and finally decided I needed to clean up or get to napping. I decided I would rest better if I was clean.
Usually if I am in a hotel, I will figure out what I am going to wear before I get in the shower. I'll lay it out on the bed. Bra, panties, outfit all waiting for me when I get out. But since I was focused on getting clean and tired, I didn't.
I hopped in the shower. I started by washing my face. Then, I moved on to washing my hair, which was recently dyed a fabulous royal blue by my amazingly talented teammate, Dynamo Yo.
If you have never had your hair dyed with vibrant color, you might not know that the first couple of times you wash your hair, the color can get all over you and all over the shower. Yeah, I was a quickly turning into a smurf. I turned my attention to my back and chest, so I wouldn't be blue. Literally.
I had just finished returning my skin to its normal flesh color when I thought heard something.
I turned off the water, and then I was sure.
Yep, it was an alarm. A fire alarm. And I was naked. And dripping wet. With unshaved legs.
I wrapped my head in a towel to prevent the blue dye from redepositing itself on my skin.
The alarm continued, and it seemed to get louder. And more frequent.
I towelled off my body--sorta. Reached in the closet and tore the tags off the new red dress I was going to wear that evening and pulled it over my head. Of course, it stuck to me. Then, I rummaged through my suitcase for a pair of clean panties. I had packed too much (as usual), and it took me a minute to locate a pair. I stepped into them and tried to pull them up against my still moist skin. I looked like Bonus trying to put his pajamas on after a bath without drying first. Yeah, it was a wrestling match with jumping and bunching, etc. I'm so glad there was no one there to witness the ridiculousness.
The panty wrestling had taken longer than it should have, and the fire alarm continued sounding. I had hoped for an announcement that it was a false alarm, but it hadn't come. The fire could be close. It could be huge. I knew I needed to get out of there and fast. My heart was pounding. I located my strapless bra and shoved it in my purse along with my phone.
Mistake cuatro. Treinta y cuatro DD.
Slipped my feet into my flipflops. On my way out the door I hung my lanyard around my neck. I turned left and headed for the stairs. I always check for the location of the exits as soon as I locate my room, and I was thankful for my OCD in this area because I was prepared in an emergency. Scoffers keep scoffing...
It was fairly quiet when I entered the stairwell, but I could hear a few people making their way to the ground floor. When I was about half a flight down, a European couple entered from the same doorway I had. They told me that they were glad I knew where to go because they had blindly followed me down the hall and into the stairwell. They said they had been napping when the alarm went off. They asked me what the alarm was for, and we began to make our way down...
Or somewhere along those lines. I was on floor sixty-one (which has nothing to do with the actual floor you are on--it has to do with which tower you are in). I think the ground floor was 42, but I can't be certain. No matter the number of floors, it was a long way down with my hair in a towel, my panties off center, and my boobs bra-lessly bouncing. I'm sure I was a real spectacle.
The Europeans and I chatted about this being their first trip to Vegas and I told them I was visiting for roller derby. Which they were unfamiliar with. So I schooled them a little. And admitted that it was most likely the shenanigans of one of the RollerCon attendees that had caused us to be traipsing (at a moderate clip) half-dressed down so many flights of stairs. I apologized profusely for derby people everywhere.
About nine stories down, the alarm ceased. A voice came through the speakers and told us that the tower had been checked, that there was no danger, and we could return to our previous activities.
Whew! Crisis averted!
The Europeans and I decided we would take the elevator back up to floor 61. We had a good bit of company. Who noticed right off the bat that I had been in the shower when the alarm sounded. Some disagreed with my need to don clothing before leaving my room. One particularly forward elderly derby geezer posited that it would have made his day had I left my room sans clothing.
Step off, dude. And in your dreams. But thanks for thinking I'm attractive, I think?
Anyway, the Europeans and I finally return to floor 61.
You think this story is over, but you are wrong...
Come back tomorrow to find out what happens when I get off the elevator.
Don't you just hate it when people do that? Me, too!