Functionally ReTodded

***This story is completely partially somewhat might be a little bit fictional…maybe, but for simplicity, I will write it in the first person***

I was on a business trip. I was very committed to the task at hand as well as being a good steward of the company financially speaking. So much so that instead of leaving on Sunday for a meeting, I got up at the crack of snot on Monday morning (a little before 5am) to make an 8am flight to sunny (insert city name here).

To further show my financial stewardship, I parked in the extended stay parking lot at the local gi-normous airport rather than taking park n’ ride or some such service.

Fast forward to the astonishing hotel as I arrived via limousine at about 10:30am Monday morning. I checked in, set up my conference room for the tasks at hand, and got to work.

And I worked and I worked and I worked.

I knocked off at 7pm for a little welcome party with stand up food, free cocktails, and I even got to watch some guy hand-rolling cigars for us. I stayed about an hour and a half, had a few beers, enjoyed rubbing shoulders with the sales force and some folks from the home office.

I headed back to my cave and worked like a dog until about 11pm. During that last stretch, I did have a couple of beers whilst installing software patches and what not.

At 11pm, I headed for the bar. It was time to release some tension, and I did so in the form of drinking (insert number of your own choosing here) beers.

I also realized that I hadn’t eaten since my 11am chicken caesar salad, and that I was damned hungry. I heard several folks talking about how great the burgers were at this particular hotel, so I asked the bartender for a burger. He said "The kitchen’s closed, but you can order one from room service 24 hours a day."

I believe an evil grin crossed my face and I said "That’s it. Two beers and the check please. I’m heading to my room for a burger."

I took the light speed elevator up to my room, picked up the phone, and ordered a burger with bacon and swiss with a side of fries. I kicked back on the bed, found an old Daytona 500 on ESPN classic, and proceeded to count the seconds until my hamburger arrived.

The next thing I know, there’s a burglar in my room.  He was speaking in tongues and waving a weapon with his left hand and holding the fruits of his crime in his right.

"Hey!" I yelled.  "What the fuck are you doing in my room?!?"

And just as I got ready to open up a can o’ whoop ass on this ne’er do well, I came to a startling realization:

I had fallen asleep and the Mexican room service waiter had let himself into my room and was basically shouting me awake and waving the receipt he wanted me to sign in my face.

So I calmly shook myself awake, signed for the $22 bill (and added a generous tip despite the fact that he committed a B/E in an effort to collect my autograph), and he left.

Oh, and I ate the burger and fries at 1am.  They sucked donkey balls.  As a matter of fact, I’d have rather eaten donkey balls than that horse meat they brought me.  But I slept well knowing I scared the shit out of some overnight hotel guy that lost the room service lottery.