I have probably mentioned that early in my career, during a conversation with some of the Road Warriors in my office, I was told about a strange phenomenon that sometimes strikes them:
Waking up in a hotel room and not knowing where you are.
My colleague, Teresa, said that the experience can be really frightening and she always kept the notepad on the nightstand to tell her where she was, just in case.
The first time it happened to me was five years ago, in a hotel in St. Louis. My employer was running a conference. I had been in Washington the week before and somewhere else the week before that. I am forever thankful for that original conversation, because I was able to tell myself:
This is what Teresa was talking about. You are where you’re supposed to be. Just think for a minute and work it out.
And I did.
So it happened again Tuesday morning. Besides being Week 3 of being On the Road, I was staying someplace different because my regular hotel in DC was booked solid. Damn cherry blossoms.
I am not yet to the point where this is a regular experience, but some of the other things are becoming more regular. Like finding extra hotel keys in my luggage. All the time. Or trying to charge my breakfast to the room number from the week before. Or forgetting my office key at home because it was packed in a different bag. Today I had a new one:
I handed the TSA security agent the boarding pass from the last trip.
I think it is time to stay home for a bit.