Remember how in Chariots of Fire the athletes competed on Sunday despite their religious beliefs and they all did really really bad, almost as if they were being punished?
Yeah. That's me. Right now.
Stupid business trip. I never wanted to do this in the first place. I was never actually asked if I wanted to go to stupid California on a Sunday and be in a class on a Sunday. I did everything I could to get out of this stupid trip, short of quitting, and I still had to go. I hate it here.
Cherie preached professionalism to me before I left, so my plan was to land in California, go to my ridiculously expensive hotel, shower, iron my clothes, and show up to class all ready for the day, looking good and ready to start.
La Quinta is a sucky hotel. For being so freakishly expensive, they suck. A lot. They won't let me check in, because I am too early. In fact, Check in time is not till AFTER my class starts. No shower, no ironing board. Just the opposite, actually. I get to change in a public bathroom. My clothes come straight out of my suitcase. While doing this, a button pops off of my wrinkled pants. I ask the clerk for a sewing kits. She responds in broken English that they are out. OUT of sewing kits. With all the money it costs for one person to spend one night in your stupid hotel you think you could afford A sewing kit. Stupid hotel. I need a store, this sucky hotel has Internet problems apparently; It's down. Really? REALLY???? So I can't Google where the nearest store is. So I go on a walk. I walk for four blocks, in the California sun, looking for a store. All the gas stations (of course) don't have sewing kits, and I none of the clerks speak any English so I can't ask where the nearest store is. Doesn't ANYBODY in this stupid state speak English????
I get back to the hotel, unshowered and now sweating from my unsuccessful walk. My clothes are wrinkled, and my mascara was confiscated by the @#**@ TSA.
I hate it here. I want to go home.