This is getting weird. Last night I was a guest in the Sheraton Hotel in Framingham, MA. At 3 AM, an eerily familiar thing happened — the hotel fire alarm went off. I got dressed, sleepily made my way down the emergency stairwell, and headed outside where all the other equally sleepy hotel guests stood gathered. They seemed to think it was a sort of fun and novel thing to write home about.
I, quite frankly, am getting tired of the whole thing. Because it’s my fourth hotel evacuation. I’ve been evacuated from hotels in New Zealand, Boston, New Hampshire, and now Framingham. Three out of the four times, it’s been in the middle of the night.
I swear, I’m not the one pulling the emergency lever.