Revisiting: It's In the Fridge.
I have left curling irons in many countries. It keeps happening, and I don't know why.
I have a boatload of photos to upload from the Roche Diabetes Blogger Summit, but I'm currently at the BlogHer conference in Chicago and the bags under my eyes are hollering for SLEEP. Photos next week!
So this morning on the bus going from the hotel in Indianapolis to the Roche headquarters, I was sitting next to Scott. And we're talking and then all of a sudden ...
"Oh my God! Oh shit, I left the curling iron in my room!"
We'd already checked out of our suites and our luggage was waiting in the foyer of the lobby for our return.
"I have the number for the hotel - can you just call them up?" Scott rummaged in his wicked cool Cozmo bag for the hotel reservation print out.
"Yeah. But, um, I'm embarrassed." Blushing and realizing how goofy this sounds, "My curling iron is in the fridge."
Scott laughed at me, unsure. "The fridge?"
"It was hot after I used it so I put it in the fridge to cool it down so I could pack it in my suitcase. And I forgot to grab it." I tried to make this sound like a normal thing to do.
Scott was laughing at me and could barely speak. "Oh, I can't wait to hear this phone call."
I dialed the number and did my best to be discreet on the crowded bus.
"Hi, I just checked out and I realized I left my curling iron in my suite. Is it possible for someone to grab it and stick it in my suitcase?"
"Hi, yes we can do that for you. What is your room number?"
"And where is the curling iron?" I could hear her typing as she spoke.
"Ha. Well, it's in the fridge."
Her typing stopped. "Excuse me?"
"It's in the fridge? It was hot and I stuck it in the fridge so it would cool down and I could put it in my suitcase. So the fridge. It's in there." I spoke calmly and tried to ignore Scott's shaking shoulders as he giggled at me.
Silence from the woman on the other end of the line. I had to say something.
"What, you've never heard that before?"
She lost it. The woman let loose with a guffaw that I think other people on the bus could hear.
"No, that's a first for me, miss. Let me get your last name and we can rescue your iron from the fridge."
"It's Sparling. S-P-A-R-L-I-N-G."
"Tyson? No! Sparling! Like darling with an S-P! How did you get Tyson?!"
And then I remembered I was the one who was calling to retrieve her curling iron from the refrigerator.
And so I shut the hell up.
Originally published here: It's In the Fridge.