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The conference is all done.  Going to a conference at the Bellevue Hyatt is like hanging out in a huge gold box.  Everything is gold.  The walls and carpet, the tablecloths and chairs.  All the rooms are named after trees.

When I got to my room, the PAC host was there.  I greeted him then set up my computer.  A hotel employee came by to see if the room was okay for us.  The host said fine.  I stopped her for a minute.

“Uh, this is a weird question,” I hedged.  Dare I even ask?

“Do you have any chairs that are a little taller?”

My shoulders and back ache mightily after hours of sitting and typing.  I’m a bit too short for the tables.

She looked thoughtful.

“Well, let me see…I don’t think so.  I could get you a pillow?”

No.  Geez.  How about a phone book.  Maybe a booster seat?  Thanks so much!  Hi, everyone, I’m a midget.  And I’m seven years old!

I took a deep breath.

“Thanks anyway.”

She left, telling me she’d keep hers eyes open.  I can just imagine her coming back with two other chairs.  How about this one?  Too tall.  Or this one?  Too short.  Where is the just-right one?!

Okay.

Here’s hoping what happens at the PAC stays at the PAC.

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