Firework invasion

August 10, 4:30am

After checking into my room around one or two that morning, I piddled around on the wireless, frustrated that jet lag was keeping me from sleeping.  I finally got in bed around 4:00, delerious from sleep deprivation and the malaria meds I had popped back in Dallas.

No one told me that when the election party wrapped up around 4:30am, they’d light up a grand fireworks show down the block from my hotel.

Thirty minutes later, half asleep, I had Blake’s warning of “election night craziness” swimming around my head.  When I heard the barrage of pops and bangs, I immediately jumped to the worst conclusions.

So since I had concluded our hotel had been targeted as the unlucky site of a rebel invastion, I instinctively flopped out of bed and crawled to safety in the bathroom.  Then, my malaria meds started helping me reason: it would be a good idea to hide all my luggage with me in the bathroom, so intruding rebels think my room is vacant.  Even if they could find me, I would bribe them with an iPod and M&Ms.

I rushed back out to the room to pack up and haul in my stuff.  Then locked the door of the bathroom and sat atop my pile.  Whew.

My heart stopped beating when I heard footsteps down the hallway.  I hold my breath, hearing the footsteps pass my door.  They stop outside my neighbor’s door where I hear two girls start fussing about the fireworks show:

“...at four thirty in the morning?!” they say, exasperated.

Hmm... probably should have tossed back a chill pill along with the mefloquin.  Not one of my finer moments, but hey, at least I didn’t have to pack up my stuff in the morning.