With the recent arrival of zombie tenants at the hotel I’ve come down with a rare strain of acute viral rhinopharyngitis. Also known as the common cold “Zombie Version”, its symptoms are nasal and chest congestion, sneezing, coughing, fever, and increased appetite for human flesh. “Feed a cold,” as the saying goes.
I spent most of yesterday convalescing in my hotel room sleeping, watching Sanford and Son episodes on Youtube, and creating a mountain of crumpled tissues on my bedside table. Being sick in a hotel feels different than being sick at home. I can't wrap myself in blankets and lie on the couch. The absence of a kitchen means that most food and beverages must be obtained by actually getting dressed and going outside. Hotels are public spaces so it’s impossible to have the requisite privacy that is needed for proper recuperation.
I’ve been sick in hotel rooms on several continents. Usually these small rooms were in the hot tropical climates of southeast Asia or areas where cheap wine is abundant like the south of Spain. I even spent a couple of days sweating in feverish delirium within the confines of a shack in the Western Sahara. This time is different. At home, in this Vancouver hotel, I have a routine and responsibilities. I’ve missed work and had to postpone social obligations.
Then there’s the zombie issue. I have to talk to the hotel management about this problem before it gets out of hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment