Okay, you read (or not) my general recap of BlogHer ‘06. But let me tell you the real drama. I know that you are waiting for it. The horror. The terror. The near death experiences. Yes, my friends, the Hyatt tried to kill me. (*Disclaimer: There was nothing that the amazing triumvirate could do. I am not complaining about the location. Just the death the hotel wished upon me.)
When I arrived on Wednesday, I was told I was in
cellblock 8 building 8. No problem. Great exercise. Then I walked into the building. Oh, yes, the battle had begun. Hyattyville tried to sauna me out with the heat of a thousand saunas inside the hallways and room. Right. Trying to mess with a Texas gal by using heat? Not a prayers chance of out heating me with the your measly 100% humidity and 105 degree hallways. I laugh at that. Come see Texas in August. I thought perhaps I heard whispers of “Get out” when I got on the elevator and saw the sign that said the inspection expired in 2005. Nah. Not a problem. I can take it.
Day two. We notice that the left side of my face is swelling. By 5:00pm I have been asked twice if I have a jawbreaker in my mouth. Baffled by what it could be, I take Benadryl. Take that Hyattyville. Bring on your swelling. I slap you down with the miracle that is Benadryl. By Friday morning the swelling was down some. I look just a tad off of the swelling. Ha! Battle won.
Friday night. Hyattyville is getting rather pissed off that I am not heading it’s warnings and takes drastic measures. The left side of my face swells to proportions that look as if I am doing my best half Marlo Brando/Godfather impression. “Don’t mess with da family!” (Or in this case, “Don’t mess with da mommy bloggers.”) But no! Seeing as I had the mighty sword of Benadryl, the Hyattyville threw in the Swelling Tongue of death. My tongue had hives on it. Hives. Say it with me…..The hell?? So by 5:30pm on Friday, I am speaking in a very bizarre way.
“Are you drunk?” was a phrase I heard more than once. To which I replied, “I am noth drunthk. My tongthe ith thwollen. Doth thith soundth drunkth? No! Thith is thwollen tongthe.” Oh it was on. It was SO ON. I had to speak twice the next day. I could not be Thwollen Tongthe Girl. More Benadryl. And just to be safe, a few LemonDrops. Because what Benadryl cannot fix, Lemon Drops can make you forget. By morning, a lot of the tongue swelling was down but not the face. The hell? By this time many, many of the women I was hanging out with were trying to guess at the cause. Allergic to something I ate? (Never have been before!) Something I drank? (Certainly not alcohol. Maybe ass water.) Spider bite? (Okay, make me sleep with the light on and a shoe in my hand all night now!) Nothing seemed to fit.
Walking into the hotel on Saturday evening, I was used to the routine. Face explodes. Tongue swells. People guess as to my ailment. However, this time I heard the Hyattyville very clearly say it: “Get out!” It even wrote it out for me. But like any idiot in a horror movie, I giggle nervously and stayed.
It wasn’t until 3:45am Saturday night/Sunday morning that I realized maybe I was in over my head here. I crawled back to my bed with my very swollen face, a tongue that looked three times it’s normal size and a throat that was itchy and raw. “You win!” I screamed at the Hyattyville.
Sunday morning after 2 hours of sleep, I think even Jenny heard it. “GET OUT!”
Let me tell you something. I threw stuff into my suitcases and got the hell out of dodge. There is being tough and then there is being killed by a hotel. This time the Hyattyville won. But we are not finished, my horror friend. If we shall we meet again, I will not let you take me down.
Update: clickmom was less than happy that I left her hanging. (Sorry!). In answer to her question as to whether it went away when I left the Hyattyville Horror Hotel, the answer is yes. By the time I reached the comfy and safe (not trying to kill me) home of Jenny, I was just fine. It WAS the hotel. I swear it.