In room 413, on the 4th floor, near the ice machine. Flight attendant rooms are always by the ice machine and/or the elevator.
Insomnia, In-somnia, Insom-ni-a…
staring at the textured white ceiling with my journal on my chest, bits of dreams fade in from the night before…my plane crashed on take off, my old asshole roommate had dreadlocks, and a fold out train in Sweden. That’s all I can remember. I don’t know what it all means.
Maybe it’s my underwear, maybe it’s these down pillows; maybe it’s bad Hamlet inspired films involving a brewery. I just want to go to sleep. I need to fall asleep an hour ago. Tomorrow is going to be miserable and knowing that I need to fall asleep only makes it harder. It’s too late for a sleeping pill.
I do have a big bed though; I can roll three times and still be on the mattress. I can make a starfish. The cozy nylon naked-blanket was a nice touch, and in my favorite color.
The radio stations come in clear and the lotion is not cheap hotel brand, it’s BathNBody juniper, unfortunately, so is the shampoo, but I brought my Pantene from a different hotel.
This pen seems to write well, not like the Double Tree pens, but good enough. The fitted sheets are coming undone and the curtains are translucent so too many San Jose lights are shining in.
The air conditioner is fickle, but has a soothing sound.
My East Coast body in this West Coast bed really should be asleep by now.
The shower is absolutely amazing: sliding glass-type doors, five shower head settings, one of which will knock you down and leave a red mark on your chest. I chose the waterfall, but forgot to bring the Pantene in with me, I had to use their shampoo and conditioner, which worked out surprisingly well.
We’ll give slumber another go now. If I fall asleep in the next five minutes I’ll get four hours. I’ve been here before. In thirty minutes I’m going to give in and turn on the television.