It’s 1.34am. I’m currently in bed. But not just any bed. This bed is massive. The actual duvet and pillows must consist of the fluffiest clouds bound together by soft threads and carefully crafted by the tiny fingers of bed angels. It’s so soft and comfortable. It also happens to be in 5 star luxury hotel in Tenerife! Result. So why the hell am I still awake? I’ll tell you why. My God damn imagination! Why, at this time of the morning, does it spring to life like a toddler who has eaten all the blue smarties? Give me strength. Now, I’m more than aware that this is not something that is exclusive to my nighttime routine. We’ve all laughed at the memes suggesting that as soon as our head hits the pillow we start to question our very existence. We wonder why the grass is actually green and what can we do to lose 3 stone within the next 48 hours. (Ive truwd everything. Its mot pisdible).Even the conversations we would have with our idols should we ever meet them.”I’m so happy to meet you. Awww you can’t date me I’m afraid. I’m already spoken for.” It all sounds crazy, yet at 1.34am, these thoughts appear to be perfectly normal and scarily rational.
But sometimes the thoughts in our heads aren’t all popstars and how frogs turn into Princes. Sometimes the thoughts get too intense. Let me explain. I’m currently lying here wondering how to kill/beat up/disarm/escape from, you get the jist, someone breaking into our locked hotel room. And I’m seriously concerned about this. I’m not normally as irrational as this. So let me explain the events leading upto this loopy hour (2 and a half so far actually)
It’s our last night on this amazing island. We’ve had the perfect day doing nothing but sit in the sun, drink and eat. What else is there to do? It’s been a very relaxed few days. No partying or late night boozy sessions. Out for some food then back to sit on the balcony, watch a bit of TV and then sleep. Tonight was no different except we were out for tea a little earlier with the intention of packing for our flight home tomorrow. We’d been back at the hotel around 15 mins and I answered a knock at the door. 2 guys dressed in black, were behind the door and had come to look at our faulty bathroom door but they had the wrong room as ours was fine. I then checked all the doors in the room incase the room attendant had reported something but everything seemed fine. The rest of the evening was spent pretty much on Facebook or some kind of social media sites. We watched a few random things on TV. Only so much you can watch on the news channel and BBC 1. Sam would rather stick hot pokers in her eyes than watch Coronation St. So we opted to catch up on a few shows on Netflix. A nice easy evening followed by a good night’s sleep before heading back to the rat race of real life. Or so I thought.
No sooner had I switched the light off, cosied in and gotten comfy, my imagination like a 10 week old puppy being let into a massive ball pool, went mental. The guys at the door earlier… what if they weren’t in fact from the hotel but checking out rooms and who was in them! They might be checking to see if anyone was a threat or if they looked vulnerable. I can’t remember if he looked at me when he was speaking or looking over my shoulder into the room. Why was there 2 of them?! Now I’m playing out every scenario in my head. What can I hit them with when they burst into our room demanding money and whatever else? Got it. There’s 2 litres of vodka at the side of the wardrobe. That’s gonna hurt. But if it breaks and glass punctures a vital artery and they die!? I’ll end up in jail. A Spanish jail. I doubt it’ll be fun like when Bridget Jones was locked up in Thailand, singing Madonna songs into hairbrushes. They prob won’t even like Madonna. I’ll get beat up in prison. No way I would survive that. And I certainly don’t want to be the new girl in prison. I might leave the vodka where it is for now. Plus, if I have to go and get it, I risk the chance of making out that I’m some kind of alcoholic sneaking vodka at 2.10am. OK, so what if they knock at the door and try to push in when I answer. I suppose that’s easy, I can just bang the door shut on them and run out the patio doors and get help. Unless of course their accomplice has the patio doors covered. Suppose I could grab a bottle on the way to the patio. It would be on my way. I’d make sure Sam was armed with one too. Bloody hell, what if they have guns!? Well there’s nothing we can do then. We’re doomed. Seriously, what if they come along and just blast the locks off the doors? (I need to calm down and stop watching CSI/LAW&ORDER/EVERY BLOODY CRIME PROGRAMME ON THE TELE!) This is just the tip of the iceberg. So far we’ve been beaten up, tied to chairs. I’ve heard whimpering of other guests in similar situations. The hotel has been taken over and there’s nothing I, or anyone else can do. When the police question me, I won’t remember what any if them look like as I didn’t have my glasses on or contact lenses in. They’ll get away with it if I can’t identify them in a line up. Sam didn’t see them so the onus is on me. Awww man. I hate this. I do however, remember thinking that the one who did the talking, looked like Eric from CSI Miami. It’s a start I suppose. Albeit a blurred around the edges Eric. Evertime I hear a door close or footsteps along the corridor, I hold my breath, waiting to hear a keycard attempt to open our door. What if these guys do actually work for the hotel? Oh my God, their keys will work. Hold on… I’m just away to double check it is definitely locked…..
It is now 2.30am and instead of all these thoughts running around in my head, I decided to print them on this virtual paper. I’m getting tired and my eyes are watering. I think i might have convinced myself that these poor men I’m accusing of being robbing rapists, did actually have the wrong room earlier. But what if in some weird random twist of events, I’m logging this entry as a witness and victim without realising? It’s still early. What time do criminal work when they’re on night shift? Is there a night shift siesta? If so, I’m safe til 4am. Well it would seem that the only thing I’ve convinced myself of is that my imagination is ridiculous and I should stick to Disney films before bed. Writing it down does help though. I wonder what I’ll think of this when I wake up at 3.55am. Hmmmm. Goodnight xx
***UPDATE*** it’s now 8.17am. The door is still in tact. Nobody has been in and we still have 2 full, unbroken litres of vodka. 😀😀😀