Sweet Dreams

We –meaning, the Public Works Department where I am employed—have quite a few people traveling—meaning, going to business-related trips—this week and through the end of the month.

Like, almost thirty people.


Thirty. People.


This is significant to me because I made all of the travel arrangements.

Think sixteen thousand calls to hotel reservation hotlines.

Well. Maybe not sixteen thousand.

But something awfully close to that.


This is also significant because I'm just so worried that they're going to get there and something's going to go wrong.

Sooooooooooo worried. (Is that enough "o's" to get the point across?)


I can just imagine the check-in disasters that could possibly happen:

NOTE TO ANYONE WITH AN ACTIVE HEART CONDITION: These are not actual situations. These are hypothetical situations.


·         The guys get down to San Diego, and the night clerk there smiles and tells them that there will be a seven hundred dollar surcharge for the San Diego Support The California Budget Deficit fund.


·         The confirmation numbers were all one digit off, and therefore our pre-paid check accidentally pays for a cute little couple from Singapore to have a stay free-of-charge.


·         The folks in Las Vegas claim that there was never a check sent to cover the costs. Check? What check?


·         The guys get collectively locked out of their hotel rooms (for the sake of this situational scene, let's pretend they all forgot them at the conference that day). Patrons see fifteen guys in a hallway and mistakenly assume it's a situation involving gang violence. Someone rings the fire alarm, thinking that it will be a reliable way to summon law enforcement personnel. Paranoia breaks out in Reno, NV. The city goes into lockdown. The City Attorney is contacted on his personal cell phone to negotiate terms for bail.


·         Between the time when I booked the hotel and when the guys showed up, the hotel is converted to a City Zoo.


·         The cute little couple from Singapore gets to their room and doesn't like the color of the carpet, so they tell the clerk thanks-but-no-thanks and head across the street to the Sheraton, so the taxpayer dollars from our City are completely wasted!



See? Aren't all those possibilities totally frightening?

Can you tell I'm nervous about all the travel happening this week?


Wake me up when September is over and everybody's home, please.