I woke to the wailing of an electrical alarm - a throbbing, screaming noise that caused confusion at first. I threw back the bed covers, and looked at the time - 2:30am.
Ok. This is a fire alarm. It’s not stopping either. What do I do? All of my work is in a backpack across the room. It’s backed up, back at base. Forget it. Clothes
I threw on the shirt and cargo shorts I had been wearing earlier in the day, grabbed my wallet and phone, and left the room. As I made my way through the corridors of the hotel, I found myself leading a train of fellow guests - apparently following me because it looked like I knew what I was doing.
En route to reception, a pretty girl ran past, trying to do her blowse up somewhat unsuccessfully as she went.
I marched straight across the foyer, barefoot, and out in the cold night air - followed by a lady in a bathrobe and not much else. Slowly other guests joined us on the tarmac - wondering if we had just lost all of our posessions.
After perhaps 15 minutes the running girl re-appeared - now neatly presented in a reflective tabbard, and informing us all that it was a false alarm, and we could wait in the warm of the reception area until the emergency services had checked the hotel over.
The day ended at 2:45am, thankfully safely, and with a story to tell.