Last week during a training session at a hotel in the Chicago suburbs I decided that the company of my coworkers was unbearable, so I opted out of dinner with my “team.” My teammates are good guys, but none of them was even born when I graduated from college, and the idea of spending dinner talking about smart phones and craft beer was exhausting.
My goal for the evening was simple: I wanted to have Thai food delivered to my room and crash early. My teammates looked at me curiously, not understanding why I did not want to brave the rigors of the January night to go to Applebee’s with them, but relying on the benefits of both age and rank I didn’t feel compelled to explain.
“See you tomorrow,” I said. “I’m staying inside where it’s warm.”
But nothing is ever easy and moments later I learned that the Thai restaurant that always delivers my food in Chicago no longer delivered. I sighed; I did not want to go out into the icy arctic night, but I also did not want to order room service and pay $25.00 for a club sandwich, so because I had a rental car and the Thai place was close I decided to go pick up my dinner.
A minute later I stepped out of the elevator in the lobby and, startled, got right back in: My teammates had decided to eat dinner in the lobby bar, meaning I would have to pass them on my way out and explain why I was going out when I said I was staying in. Worse yet, if they asked me to join them I would have no plausible excuse not to.
I pondered: I had ordered my food and given the restaurant my credit card so I had to go. Just then the elevator started to rise; then the door opened and a large group of Japanese businessmen got in. Inspired, I determined to infiltrate their group and make my way out of the hotel incognito.
As the elevator descended I discovered the flaw in my plan when I realized that I was about two feet taller than anyone else in the elevator and was, if anything, more conspicuous than ever, so as we walked out I bent my knees, squatted down and, hunched over, pretending to read a text message on my phone. My posture was not comfortable, or pretty, but I made it out of the hotel unseen.
I returned twenty minutes later, food in hand, and I realized that now I had to get back into the hotel. Feeling crafty, I wrapped my black scarf around my face, obscuring everything but my eyes. I pulled up my black hoody and raised the collar on my black winter coat. Then when I saw another group of Japanese businessmen walking into the hotel I had my cover, but I had to move fast.
The businessmen were almost to the lobby so I had to jog to catch up with them; unfortunately, bundled up with my eyes partially obscured with a bag of food in one hand I was severely unbalanced and, unused to running on ice, I fell, hard, taking a couple of the businessmen down with me, like dominoes.
I got up with dignity and, Thai food still in hand looked at the Japanese businessmen who were looking at me with inscrutable expressions. Then, as if on cue, they all bowed. Embarrassed, I bowed back, too fast and too low and, still on the ice, fell down again, dragging another of the business men down with me.
Next morning, I limped downstairs to join my coworkers for breakfast. Elaborately casual, I asked them how their night had been. “Dude,” said Joshua, “you missed it. Some drunk old dude in a burqa took a header in the parking lot. I got it on video on my smart phone; check it out.”