Monday, October 30, 2017
Awake at 3:30 a.m. in London to the piercing sound of the hotel's fire alarm. Lack of the smell of anything burning, or the sound of any chaos outside our door keeps me skeptical for about seven minutes. The alarm continues relentlessly, so we grab passports, wallets, and phones and join fellow guests outside on the street. Most of them look significantly more bedraggled than Emily and I. Makes me wonder if we missed a party earlier.
The fire brigade rolls up, lights a flashing, turns off fire alarm, and bids everyone to go back to their room. I feel sorry for the hotel staff. Dealing with bitchy guests who feel that lifesaving protocols shouldn't apply to them unless there's an actual catastrophe is probably not why they signed up for the graveyard shift. Am thankful that the very small group of vociferous complaining solipsists are not American.