Notes from Room 611

So last night I had a near brush with death. Don't worry, dear readers. I'm alive and well, if undercaffeinated. There is much room for aggressive Strabucks franchising in Colorado, if anyone is looking for a business opportunity. I threw a fit in the Denver Int'l Airport. I had been late to SAN to take my flight, so I figured I'd nap and get a coffee at my layover. This was not meant to be, however. I walked the length of the terminal at Denver only to find myself in front of the terminal map, hands on my waist, just short of stomping my feet.

I called a friend. At work. In the middle of her busiest day.

me: "Um. So there's apparently no Starbucks at this airport. Is this even possible?"
her: "No Starbucks? Is it a third world country?"

This is why we have our friends. Rather than ridicule me, she was quick to point out that even Iran has Starbucks, if a completely illegal ripoff called "Starbox". I love my people.

Anyway, she told me Seattle's Best is owned by Starbucks, but that didn't comfort me. I got a frozen yogurt and continued planning the bar crawl for 100 folks that I've got going on Tuesday night in honor of the Roomienator's graduation. Is there anything better one can do on a Tuesday than drink copious amounts of well drinks? I think not. And I don't know that there's anything more professional you can do on a business trip than spend your time planning such an event. "$2 kamikazes. Think you can do that?"

Back to the future, here we are, room 611 at the Wyndham in Colorado Springs. Which brings us back to my near-death experience. It's really dry out here. They outfitted us with bottles of water and chapstick upon arrival. Well last night I was talking on my phone (yes, this is what I do on Friday nights. Get over it.) and my phone was sparking at my ear! Static like CRAZY. So I decided to put it away, shut off the lights and go to bed. And then, when I got in bed there was even MORE static- sparks left and right. BLUE SPARKS! Big ones! Ouchy ones. I told myself not to worry because I'm not flammable. But then I realized...

I AM!

I am flammable. For some reason this fascinates me. I nearly escaped death. Ok, maybe that's dramatic, but I'm at a writers conference. What do you expect?

Here's to hoping I find the next Great American Novelist downstairs. And a cup of coffee. I'd like one of those too.