In an addition to the travelling files, I was woken this morning at 4.30am by the television from the room next door.
After deciding that sleeping through it was not going to happen, I jumped up, checked the room number, and dialed the room. No answer. So I put on some clothes, wandered into the corridor and knocked on the door, which was vibrating with TV loudness. Still no answer.
So I phoned reception. Eventually, after they also tried the knocking and ringing tactics, I convinced them that I might get seriously irate if they put the occupant’s right to privacy over my right to get a couple of winks.
They went into the room. The earcrackin’ noise stopped. I heard them giggling as they left. I got a sweet phone call to say that they’d popped into the room to find the guy absolutely and utterly fast asleep. Coma-esque. Past out. Dead to the world.
Pills? Booze? Serious REM capability? Who knows. But I did fall asleep again with a smile on my face, picturing this oke snoring his head off as the hotel staff wandered in and out of his room.
I wonder if he woke up wondering how the telly turned itself off?