It's six am when the noise starts. I had been so excited about my room. It's big with a view of the ocean (although it's not an oceanfront room). It's the same room I had two years ago but two floors down. The third floor. I didn't even think of the logistics of what this meant.
Well, this is what it means. At six am the people cleaning rooms are starting to prepare. They push around a cart with the squeekiest wheel of all time. I want to yell at them to put some WD-40 on it. But I try and roll over and go back to sleep. Then, the hotel comes alive.
My room shares a wall with the stair well. Also, my floor is where all craft talks, panel discussions, etc will take place. I may be next to the most highly trafficked portion of the hotel. The "pitter-patter" of giant feet in the stairwell reverberates throughout my room. People are coming and going. Taking walks on the boardwalk, going to breakfast, chatting and making acquaintance. It's all very social and friendly and ambitious.
It's also right outside my door.
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