This, and the next few postings, sort of make up one long story, and the breaks are kind of arbitrary ...
One time they sent me to Dublin. I was only supposed to be facilitating in Dublin for one week. So, I had packed for one week. At this stage, I was still doing the book reviews. So, when I say "I packed," I packed the technical gear, and what I figured would be enough books for a long flight, and a week's worth of reviewing. Because of a long flight there, and home, I wanted to pack more books. When I was faced with a long flight, it was a constant battle between Gloria, and myself, as to the space in the suitcase for shirts, versus the space in the suitcase for books. But we had pretty much worked out a compromise, at that point, for a one week trip.
On Wednesday, the office called and said they wanted me to do a seminar in Cleveland, after Dublin. So, I said okay, and got on the phone to Gloria to inform her of the change. Gloria was predictably put out. I had four shirts. Gloria didn't think that that was enough for two weeks. Well, I told her, I have never yet been in a hotel that didn't have laundry service. And, because the office had made a change to the schedule, I was allowed to expense the laundry service.
Remember, I'm still in Dublin. I haven't even gotten to Cleveland yet. And on Friday, the office calls, and says they want to me to add Florida after I finish in Cleveland. I speak to the travel office, once again, pointing out that if it's a choice between Cleveland and Florida, I'd rather be in Florida. So my new itinerary, for some reason, has me flying to Toronto, and then changing planes in Toronto, and flying to Cleveland. All of which is happening on Saturday, once you account for the time change difference, when flying westbound for a considerable distance over an ocean. The travel office has, apparently, booked me into the last hotel room available in Cleveland. Why this is so I have no idea.
So, I get on the plane on Friday night, in Dublin. And they land in Toronto about noonish on Saturday. As I am landing at Pearson Airport, and changing planes, and, in particular, flying to the United States, I have to change terminals. Not only do I have to change terminals, but I have to pick up my luggage at my original terminal (which means that I have to wait for my luggage to get off the plane), and get over to the other terminal, where I can depart to the United States. This is, of course, because you clear US Customs in Pearson airport.
I finally get my bag. I travel to the other terminal. I find US Customs. I find the lineup for US Customs. I contact one of the people managing the line, and give her my flight number. She looks up my flight number. Even though my flight is now fairly close, she decides that I can stay in the lineup. Eventually I get near the front of the lineup. At this point the same agent has moved to a different occupation, managing the front of the lineup. She is asking everyone what their flight numbers are. I tell her my flight number. Again. She practically shrieks, "Why didn't you tell somebody that before!" She takes me out of the lineup, and puts me in a shorter lineup, for people whose planes are getting ready to depart. I get to a border agent. I explained the situation to the border agent. The border agent is interested in the fact that I am teaching information security. How did you get started in that? he asks. I explain about doing research into computer viruses. The border agent gets *really* interested, and wants to ask me all kinds of questions about computer viruses. Finally he lets me go.
I run to the gate. There is absolutely no one there, except a gate agent. And a door, which, fortunately, is open. I tell the gate agent my flight number. The gate agent points at the door. I run out onto the tarmac and over to the nearest airplane, which happens to be a Twin Otter. I run up the steps. As soon as I set foot in the aircraft the flight attendant hauls the door closed. I find a seat and sit down. We get to Cleveland.
My suitcase doesn't.
A huge number of people are going to Cleveland and wanting to get taxis and rental cars to go to Cleveland. Despite the huge lineup for people getting rental cars, when I do get to the front of the line, the travel office has booked me a car, so it's reserved, and I get my car. I drive to my hotel.
When I get to my hotel, the parking lot is absolutely crammed. I finally find a parking spot, and walk over to the lobby of the hotel. There is a huge crowd of people outside the door, and a huger crowd inside the lobby. There is an amazing volume of noise coming out of the restaurant. I fight my way, very slowly, through, but finally make it up to the desk. People around me are being told no they have no rooms, no they have no rooms. When I finally get to the desk, and give my name, the person admits that yes, they do have a room reserved for me. I get up to my room. It is a smoking room. You can definitely tell that it is a smoking room. I go back down to the desk, fight my way back through the (by now *slightly* less crowded) lobby to the desk, and point out that my reservation was for a non-smoking room. The front desk person admits that, yes, my reservation is for a non-smoking room, but that this room is all that is available. There are no other rooms available in the hotel.
I take the smoking room. I open all the windows, and crack the heat.
The second time that I visited the front desk, the lobby was slightly less frantic, and so I was able to ask a few questions. No, they had no other rooms available that night, but I could be moved the following day, Sunday, since they would not have as much activity and as many bookings and reservations. It was the front desk staff who, when I asked why tonight was so busy but tomorrow night wouldn't be, that explained that the Cleveland Browns (if the Cleveland Browns play football, and I've got the right team name), were playing a game, and everybody was coming into town for the football game.
I find it hard to express my lack of interest in this type of event.
I noted the noise in the hotel, and the noise coming out of the restaurant, and was told that the restaurant was currently occupied by a birthday party, and, again, things would be much quieter the following day.
Apparently, Cleveland has a very good hospital. Apparently, people come to it from far and wide for treatment. And, apparently, an awful lot of people who come to the hospital stay at this particular hotel, which is the closest hotel to the hospital. This particular hotel didn't seem very much like a hotel. It seemed more like a fifteen storey high Motel 6. Yes, it did have a restaurant. However, no, it had no laundry service. At all. When I indicated to the staff that I had a rather desperate need for laundry service, they did offer to allow me to use the washer and dryer which they used for certain amounts of linen cleaning. However, it didn't seem like that was going to work. I would have to find a dry cleaner, and a dry cleaner that was open early enough that I could drop off my shirts before I had to make it to the teaching venue, and teach, so that I could get my shirts done. (And I need to do socks and underwear as well, by this point.)
Due to some neglect or confusion between the booking office and the venue, the venue had not yet agreed to provide drinks and refreshments. So, as happened more than once, the training office asked me to find and purchase comestibles and drinks so that there would at least be something in the training room. This was actually a fairly important request. The CISSP seminar was a fairly intense workshop. The candidates were probably going to be fairly stressed. it was therefore important that, at the very least, they have something to drink. People who are under stress need something to eat and drink, and particularly to drink. That is why we always insured that, at the very least, there was something to drink in the training room, and, by preference, coffee on the go at all times.
So, my Sunday off was not off. On Sunday morning, I asked for directions to a grocery or convenience store. The staff didn't have a clue. I don't know if that was because they didn't frequent this part of town (which was a somewhat sketchy neighborhood, hospital notwithstanding), or whether, like so many front desk staff, they worked on the basis of single digit IQs.
So, I drove out, picked a road, picked a direction, and started driving. And driving. And driving. I didn't pass anything that looked remotely like the grocery store. I didn't pass anything that look conceivably like a convenience store. Finally I passed what seemed to be a grocery store, although with wire grids, and chain link, and bars over the windows, it looked more like it was a pawn shop. I confirmed that it was a grocery store, but also confirmed that it was going to be difficult getting a fair load of drinks and goodies from the store into the car, so I decided to travel on and see if I could do any better. Apparently, I couldn't. I drove for a considerable distance, without passing anything that was any better. So, I drove back to the grocery store, bought various pastries, donuts, muffins, and juices, and made multiple trips out to the car to load up.
Having fulfilled my obligation to the training office, I did what I usually do when I'm in a strange town on a Sunday morning, and tried to find a church. And tried. And tried. And tried. Finally I found something that looked pretty church-like. So, I parked there, and went in. It was, in fact, a church. A Black church. So, I got to extend my research into the style of Black preaching. Which, in this particular case, went on for three hours.
Following church, I went looking for dry cleaners. I paid particular attention to hours. I did find one that opened at 7:00 a.m. As far as I was concerned, this was about the only possibility that would suit me.
By this time, the airline had delivered my suitcase.
So, I figured that I was prepared for Monday morning. I had goodies in the car, and I had bagged up my shirts. Except for the one that I was wearing that day for the seminar.
So, Monday morning, I headed first for the dry cleaner, dropped off my laundry, and went to the venue. I lugged in all the juice and goodies. I set up for the seminar. And, somewhat more tired than usual, I delivered the seminar.
During the day, the booking office got in touch with the venue, and got them to agree to provide refreshments for the remainder of the seminar. So, I was off the hook for heading back to that ridiculous grocery store, and hauling in juice and pastries every morning.
When I finally finished the seminar, Monday evening, I headed to the dry cleaners, having made sure that they were open long enough for me to pick up my laundry. My laundry was done. So was one of my shirts. They had done a number on the collar, and even Gloria couldn't fix it. So that shirt was done.
Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/09/mgg-539-hwyd-regina-and-winterpeg.html
Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html
Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/09/mgg-541-hwyd-cleveland.html
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