This time to Boca Raton, a few hours ahead of Hurricane Rita. I endured a bumpy ride, which I hate. Actually, I hate the whole act of traveling - I don't mind being in a new place, just the process of getting there. I hate worrying about getting to the airport in enough time to check in and go through security. I hate waiting at the gates. I hate dragging my luggage around (though I hate waiting at baggage claim even more). I hate crowding into seats. I hate the noise of the plane. I hate feeling sick to my stomach and having to desperately suck on candied ginger. I hate catching colds from the re-circulated air. I hate having to go find the car to take me to the hotel. I hate the uncomfortable silence and the small talk in the car with the driver.
The hotel is painted bright pink on the outside, and the inside is dim and looks rather Spanish medieval, with lots of tapestries and dark wood and stone steps and wall sconces and pointed archways. The layout is a little weird too, with hallways and stairwells in odd places. I've gotten myself lost several times already, and it's not an overly big place.
I have to edit 140 PowerPoint slides tonight. I plan to do so in bed, with the TV on. I may even get brave enough to order room service.
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