On A Cold December Night

Columbus, OH

December 12, 2019

T’was the fortnight before Christmas and outside the hotel

The snow was gently falling and the crowd began to swell

The people huddled against the chill of the night, as the big red carriage scattered its light

For an hour they gathered, weary and tired, but anxious because their hotel was on fire

When the blaze was put out after several starts and fits, one could not but reflect that this never happened at the Ritz

No matter how hard or often I banged the alarm clock, the beeping wouldn’t stop.  It was not yet 4a.

I certainly didn’t recall setting the alarm that early. I also didn’t remember requesting a hotel wake-up call, but people were banging on my door nonetheless.

Slowly coming to my senses, I realized I was hearing a fire drill…and hoping we were experiencing a fire. Because if this was a drill, this hotel would be in for one hell of a bad review.

As it was, they handled the situation quite well. Amazed how quickly the staff…like drill sergeants at reveille…was knocking on doors, I knew I had only a few seconds to depart my top-floor room. What to grab?

Having enough items for only a few days, my options were limited. But being a creature of habit and a critter of routine, my clothes were ready. The first thing I do when arriving at any hotel is to unpack. Then, at the end of each day, I return used items to the suitcase, alleviating need to re-pack before leaving.

As such, shirt and pants were in the closet, ready to go at a moment’s notice. And the moment had arrived. Stumbling down the hall and seven flights of stairs, passing a half dozen firemen coming the other way, we scrambled into the parking lot.

And then we waited.

The darkness, pierced only by the swirling red of sundry sirens, was illuminating. In the fog of shaken sleep and the rush of stirred anxiety, people reveal themselves.

As I looked around, I observed what each had taken or worn from their rooms. What was it they thought important, and what did that say about them?

One guy looked hungover, lending precarious support to another who was clearly still drunk. In some sense, their planning was better than mine. They, if they had gone to bed at all, had obviously crashed while wearing yesterday’s clothes.

Only one person was in actual pajamas. Apparently that style is in the phase of fashion inhabited by words like “malarkey”. But, with that anachronistic outfit and her warm overcoat, she was downstairs quickly, two steps ahead of the rest of us.

Most were several steps behind. A couple met the night air…which bore only a dozen degrees…in T-shirts, reminiscent in material and subject-matter of the tackiest Key West shops and sidewalks. 

Whatever they wore, almost all appeared to have taken with them at least one thing…their cellphone. Despite the frigid air, numb fingers steered clear of pockets, sacrificing soothing warmth for the comforting familiarity of the Internet, the text, or the app. 

Only one person seems to have forgotten to bring this indispensable piece of modern life. Which is why I had wait till now to start writing this. 

World-views were on display. It has been said that an optimist rejoices that things can get no better than they are, and that the pessimist realizes that the optimist is correct. 

Several guests carried their corporate laptops, fearing the hassle they’d endure trying to replace their charred company computer. Others came with all their luggage. After half an hour, a few simply hopped in their car and drove away. I assume they had early flights, and would rather wait in a warm airport terminal than a cold hotel parking lot.

Recalling the trek from the top floor, one woman turned to me exasperated, saying she hoped we wouldn’t have to walk all the way back up. I responded that I hoped we would. 

Another woman was beside herself. When the man next to her assured her all would be fine, she replied that it was too late for that. This was her first trip away from her five-month old son. Like many first-time mothers, she was anxious being away, but had consoled herself with the prospect of a good night sleep.

For the most part, hotel guests and staff handled the situation well. As time and temperature lifted the veil of sleep from bleary eyes, moods cheered, jokes were shared, and acquaintances were made. 

Soon, the alarms abated and the sirens ceased. We learned that the small kitchen fire had been extinguished, and were cleared to return to our rooms. 

As I approached the stairs, I noticed I was doing so virtually alone. Almost every other guest proceeded to the front desk. I then realized that the one thing I took from the room revealed me as perhaps the greatest optimist of us all. 

I was glad to have my key.

JD