It’s Sparrow, an average man passing an average life…
Friday, June 25
This is not Hotel of the Year…The service is good – hardly Sparrow-esque but what is, frankly – and the room is satisfactory but the in-room coffee is that world-dominating brand, which I’ve never particularly liked, plus the WiFi here was difficult to log into and slow besides.
(In fact, I don’t remember actually logging on successfully, access just sort of happened…I guess after 25 minutes it figures it’s hassled you enuff and allows you access.)
The big news is ol’ Sparrow was able to finagle a microwave, key when you want to continue your veggie regime while on the road…I was in town really early Thursday and went to a grocery store and bought three sacks of peas and when I got to my room discovered there wasn’t a microwave…I shrugged and thought the best-laid plans of mice and men and stuff.
But like some problems in life, this one solved itself with almost zero effort from yours truly…I was making the half-mile trek from the lobby to my room after dinner last nite when – with Movie of the Week timing – I saw two guys delivering a microwave to a room a few doors down from mine.
– Hey, can I please get one of those, too??
The service was of a quality even yours truly could admire…Of course I could, what was my room number???…I pulled out my key packet and showed him, because room numbers here look like basketball scores and I can never remember them.
– Give us a few minutes…
Now, Pa Sparrow always reckoned a few of anything as between four and seven, but they must’ve kept microwaves stack in a nearby hall because there were so quick Pa would have said they were there in a couple-three minutes…My only complaint was the guy set it up on the desk and not the counter where the coffee maker was, but it was a simple matter to move it when they left.
The morning session was sort of tedious, but sort of not…There were the usual rituals and introductions you get at things like this, then there were some presentations and reports with State Commander Greg even forgetting to call the convention to order, something not rectified until we were 90 minutes in, causing more than one delegate to hope we didn’t have to redo everything.
We started late, too, 0900 instead of 0830 because of some “problem” with ol’ Sparrow wondering aloud if the problem had to with getting the goddamn a/c turned on and it might’ve been, too, because the hall was actually cooler at 0900…HOWEVER, all problems were forgotten when we were adjourned for lunch at 1130, a full hour earlier than the schedule called for.
Of course, our tradition of Friday lunch at that Midwestern burger chain that’s expanded out here was adhered to…Only the longest-term readers will recall I introduced Adjutant Stanko to this wonderful place several years ago and they have his fave pork tenderloin sandwich, with Stanko sticking to habit and taking a half-hour to eat what ol’ Sparrow could wolf down in a couple of minutes and all but ignoring his French fries.
The 1430 service officer training was, frankly and unfortunately, a waste of time…I was looking forward to it hoping to pick up a couple of tidbits for cases I seldom handle but the first hour was spent listening to a Legion Veterans Affairs and Rehabilitation staff member yap about his role in Washington as chief of staff to the committee and the last hour was spent with the Legion’s state service officers talking about their roles, too, but there wasn’t any actual information about how to help a veteran file a claim, which is the point of training of this sort.
Stanko was there, and afterward he and I and Les retired to the hotel bar for a brewskie…Les is a Vietnam vet and he and Stanko are both quiet sorts who have known each other for years…A couple of things about Les: one, he’s been married for 60 years, which would have caused me to whistle if I could do so without slobbering over myself because regular readers of this crap know The Ex and I threw in the towel before making it to ten years of wedded bliss.
The second thing Stanko pointed out after Les left: he was put in for the Medal of Honor – our country’s highest military award – for unspecified heroics in Vietnam, tho the rats at the Pentagon ended up issuing Les the next-highest award, the Distinguished Service Cross, itself an award that is hardly passed out with the rations.
Tina from the post, and another gent, joined us, but ol’ Sparrow was beat, already yawning and dozing so I retired for the night and returned to the room, not even bothering with dinner.
Sparrow’s Sleep Log: 1930 Thursday until 0130 Friday…6.0 hours for the night and 32.5 for the week.
It was a pretty good rest, considering yours truly doesn’t always sleep well in a hotel and would’ve gone better had the goddamned fire alarm not gone off halfway thru my beauty rest, but what are you going to do???…Fortunately, it was soon called a false alarm and ol’ Sparrow didn’t have to get out of bed.
The Diary of a Nobody is a novel. All elements are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Anything else is a coincidence.
It was inspired by the 19th-century British novel of the same name.
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