As always, the bus pulled in to the hotel in Bakersfield late Monday night. The routine, perfected after countless thousand repetitions, is almost automatic. As the rhythm of the bus downshifts from full speed travel to a gently vibrating generator, I wake up on cue. Eyes half open, the procedure plays out once again. Find shoes, find luggage, find room key, find room, find bed, fall asleep. Unless the routine is broken, most nights the transition from bunk to bed is seamless, a few more precious hours of sleep the only reward before getting up and doing it all over again.

Routine killers range from the simple – such as a room key card that doesn’t open the hotel room door – to the mildly annoying – for example, needing a treasure map to find your room, conveniently hidden in a building a half mile away – to the downright bizarre – like a water pipe exploding in the ceiling in the middle of the night, covering the room and it’s sleeping occupant with cold (and hopefully non-toilet flush) water.

None of that happened on Monday night, so why was I suddenly awake at 2 AM? I wasn’t even sure myself, so I lay there for a minute or two, trying to figure it out.

Then I heard something. Coming from the room next door. What the? Sounded like someone was in trouble. The noise must have woken me up.

I heard it again. A woman. Louder this time.

A fight? Did someone need help? I wasn’t sure, so I listened a little closer.

It got louder, then it became clear to me. Something was happening next door, but it sure wasn’t fighting… And it went on, and on, and on, and on… and on some more. For the next hour my routine was… YES! YES! OH GOD YES! broken by… YEEEEESSSSS!!! the insensitive couple… YEEEAAA BABY! don’tstopDON’TSTOPDON’TSTOP!! in room 325.

For this unique and unusual yet still annoying disruption to the routine, I’d normally give out a GFY award, but the couple next door already pretty much covered it.

Author: frenchy