No, not the name of my fantasy band or the answer to one of the quizes so favored at company get-togethers, but the reality of hotel-based existence for the past two days. I don't know what the Boston Sheraton carpet is made of, but I'm guessing it contains a high percentage of artificial fibres. I keep getting electric shocks from the elevator buttons and my new, wonderful, fully-lined Ann Taylor trousers have attached themselves to my legs. It's a strangely erotic sensation and has enlivened a very long, PowerPoint-rich day.
And after spending 48 hours inside, I've decided that fresh air is a much under-rated necessity. It's just a shame it's so difficult getting from the hotel to the outside world; the mall keeps getting in the way, throwing stores and cheap, cheap shopping in my way and sapping my will to escape.
More of the same tomorrow. Hurrah!
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1 comment:
I know what you mean...I got sooo many electric shocks in Boston Sheraton hotel that my straight, fine, weak scandinavian mouse hair turned in to a massive curly afro...
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