I should preface this by saying that I’m still delirious from my 30 hour, horrible business trip to Ft. Lauderdale and am writing this during my lunch hour so it’s very possible none of this will make any sense. But to be fair to Ft. Lauderdale (even though it totally doesn’t deserve it for the way it treated me), it actually looked like it had the potential to maybe be a fun place to visit. But it was hard to tell with all of the sideways rain and lightning.
Also, I’m pretty sure that my business trips hate me and so the business trips get all chummy with the weather so that they can make a (literal) perfect storm of suckyness so that I want to immediately come home as soon as possible. OR, New York is totally conspiring to get me back as soon as it can because I’m just that wonderful and it’s not the same without me.
So, I think it goes without saying that I’m a professional. Obviously. And because that’s the case, I took a personal challenge from the desk receptionist at my hotel to totally prove her wrong and me right so that I would be a really impressive sight when I got to my first meeting of the day on Tuesday. But wait, that maybe doesn’t make sense to, well, all of you, so let me back up.
It started when I checked in at my hotel with what I can only guess was the friendliest person in Florida. Perhaps in all of the south. And because she was so friendly, some people willmisinterpret what she said as helpful and friendly and looking out for my best interest, instead of what it obviously was: a personal challenge.
This is how it went down:
Me: “So is the convention center within walking distance from here?”
Fake Friendly Receptionist: (look of concern) “Hmmm….where are you from?”
Me: “New York.”
FFR: “Ooooh, yeah, no….the heat down here isn’t the same as it is in the north. I mean, maybe later tonight when it’s a bit cooler, but you should wait for the shuttle. Or take a cab.”
Me: “Well how far is it?”
FFR: “At least a mile.”
Me: in my head “I’ve totally got this. And also, we won the Civil War.”
Me: out loud “Ok, thanks! Good suggestion.” Lies.
And then I threw my bags in the room, changed into Professional Becky Clothes, and headed outside.
Spoiler alert: the South won.
It was about 88 degrees with a billion percent humidity and a few threatening clouds hanging overhead. But I totally had this, ya’ll, no doubt. Until I got just far enough away from the hotel to where it’d be too far to turn around…and then the sky opened up and started spitting painful, hail-like rain on me. I think I yelped. And I definitely hid under some flower-y tree that shockingly didn’t do anything to protect me. Flowers are so selfish.
But if I turned around to go back to the hotel and then wait for a cab, I’d be too late for my meeting. So I started to run towards the convention center. You know, because I have ahistory of making really good choices. It was ON. And I was not winning. What I was doing, however, was running in patent leather flats and a spring dress with a black sweater thrown over my head. But apparently, cotton isn’t rain or wind resistant and was most definitely not the fabric of my life during a thunderstorm.
What I was also doing was not holding down my dress for the million miles per hour wind gusts that hit me as I made it to the bridge, convention center in sight.
You’re welcome, Florida drivers. Also, thanks to the class act who yelled a very flattering expletive out the window at me. You know what might have been just a bit more helpful? A ride.
But whatever, I’m going to chalk this up as a win, actually. First of all, friendly receptionist, the heat didn’t turn out to be the problem now did it? Nope. So I’m pretty sure that’s a win. A win that smells like musky wet dog with mascara running down its face, but a win all the same.