One night at the motel.
We went on a trip this last weekend. We is C, B, K1 and K2. Only initials here. K1 got his laptop along. Now, a word about the laptop (yes, its relevant!!). This laptop, was, at some point in its career a fast new machine. Now it takes something like the half life of a naked proton to open iTunes. But, hey, a laptop is better than none! Anyway, the first night on the trip was spent at a motel. A word about motels. Traveling in the desh is mostly on trains, with the occasional hotel, yatri nivas and dharmashala (yes, I have stayed in all of the above). The arrangements can and do vary from the very spic and span and efficient to the hilariously incompetent and really really dirty. The US of A has an impressive network of highways, and traveling by car is usually a much better choice. Hence, the motel. These range in type, affordabality and also survivability from the Bates Motel to the one we stayed at.
The one we had booked into was outside St. Ignace, a wee town by the lake in upper Michigan. Very picturesque. After freshening up, K2 crashed and voted against dinner. The rest of us piled into the car and went looking for a suitable place to eat. Now, all said and done, I am all for these tiny pretty towns. The only thing I have against them is the lack of places to eat at midnight. The concept of the 'dhaba' has not caught on here as yet, in spite of the many Punjabis here. Strange. So we found a pizza place, had 'dinner' and got back. Meanwhile K1 had left his laptop with the motel guys and asked them to setup the wireless internet connection. Yeah! Cool! They did too. Then, of course, every man jack wanted to check mail. And did too. Me being the last. Now that is not necessarily a bad thing. Except, of course when you are a very light sleeper and there are snorers around.
Yes, snoring. This, I suspect, more than anything else, more than having a lousy job, or being lousy at the good job leads to breakups. I mean, why would one willingly condemn oneself to a LIFETIME of bad sleep? Not love, for sure! So, just when I amabout ready to shut down the computer and doss down (me on the sleeping bag on the floor) I hear this vague rumble. My first reaction was 'where is the earthquake??' Then I realised that it was one of the sleepyheads begining to snore. And a might irritating snore it was too. Started off with a low frequency rumble that climbs in both pitch and volume until it sounds like someone is backing a noisy car up. And then abruptly, its gone! I wait with bated breath, hoping, against hope that it won't come back. But guess what, snores are like .. are like .. ok, no analogy found.. snores are evil things that don't stop. I briefly wrestle (mentally) with the idea of locating the offending person and quitely suffocating him/her with a pillow. But better sense prevails (why?). Anyway, somehow I doze off.
The next thing I remember is a bloody loud alarm going off. Those cellphone alarms are the most offensive. An old fashioned wind up clock is loud, but not offensive. A radio clock tells you the weather and stuff. A cellphone hits you with the most unnatural bizzare sounds when you are at your weakest.. dogs barking, crickets chirping, and what sounds like a blinkin' chainsaw overlaid on the sound of a jumbo jet revving up. Yes, that is what a f-in polyphonic ringtone does to you. Set at maximum volume. I got up. I was too woolly headed to figure out where the phone was. I saw what looked like C making her way to the dresser and doing things to the phone. It stopped ringing and I dozed off. Five minutes later,it rang again. C got up, did stuff again, and it stopped. Then five minutes later, it went off again. C did her little thing with the phone. Anotehr five minutes, it rings again, this time from somewhere near my head. C, in her infinite wisdom has parked the phone near my head in the fond hope that I will be able to save the situation. Now, I would like to say that this is because I am a reliable bloke whom people depend upon, especially girls in the middle of the night who have evil cellphones. But that is not the case.
I was cursing. Rather fluently. In three languages. (when I get really worked up, it becomes four languages). At that point, I was an ace away from wreaking serious vengeance on the owner, if only I knew who it was. I debated furiously whether to rip open the metal insect screen on the window and throw it as far as I could or to simply go to the toilet and flush the damn machine away. At that moment, C who was also up, and I assume as mad as I was whispered that, 'its K2's phone, I keep switching it off, but it turns itself on again'. I figured that the only way to stop it is to actually disable the alarm. Which worked.
You know what's really interesting about this entire episode? The owner of the phone slept like a bloody log through the pandemonium!!
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