babble
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Windy city blues:
I'm in Chicago right now. Well, not really Chicago, I'm in the suburbs about 20 miles outside of town. I've never been to Chicago before, so now that I'm done doing business out here, my traveling companion and I are moving into the city proper. I had big plans for revelry and hijinks tonight, but alas, they were foiled! How, you might ask? Well, I'll tell you!
The other night, it was raining and Pootie (my traveling companion) and I decided to just hang out here. We'd just had to not only move rooms, but move hotels, because of an unfortunate situation involving a ladybug infestation at hotel A. Hotel B, just across the parking lot and in the same chain, offered us slightly less swanky, but bug-free accommodations, but had no hotel restaurant. So we meandered back over to hotel A, which we'll now refer to as the Super Evil Death Suites hotel.
We relaxed in the lounge at the Super Evil Death Suites, sipping beer and watching the Red Sox get out the big broom. We then made the mistake of ordering dinner. Actually, it was all me - Pootie ordered a salad, and it was apparently fine. I ordered a turkey club, which was tasty enough but had a worrisome amount of mayo on it. I finished 3/4 of the sandwich and boxed it up, and we left to go back across the parking lot to the Bug Free Inn. Later, as we watched hotel porn TV, Pootie ate the last 1/4 of the sandwich.
(Cue ominous music.)
Cut to 24 hours later. Pootie is in Indiana visiting his momma. I'm still at Bug Free Inn, having a light dinner and a glass of wine, and watching the Sox just pick the broom up and thump the Cards on the head with it. I start to feel a little funny, but chalk it up to lack of sleep and go to bed. Meanwhile, in the wilds of Indiana, Pootie is feeling similar queasiness, unbeknownst to me. This morning, I wake up feeling like I got run over with a truck, and promptly proceed to throw up. I figure that's the end of it, shower, get dressed, and go visit my customer. But, no. My stomach continues its mutinous actions and I again toss my cookies (or in this case, my water - I was too nauseous to eat). I left the customer's office and came back to Bug Free Inn to take a nap, wondering why the hell I was sick.
Pootie called me, waking me up from a fitful sleep, and told me he felt sick to his stomach. We put two and two together and figured out that the only thing we'd both eaten was the Poison Sandwich from Super Evil Death Suites. We recoiled in horror as we both realized that the mayonnaise we'd consumed was a substance straight from hell, much like Ann Coulter. We just hope we recover from the Poison Sandwich in time to enjoy all the hijinks and tomfoolery we're bound to encounter in Chicago.
babbled by Kat @ 1:29:00 PM |
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