Before My First Deposition

Sorry, blog. Duty calls, and I have neglected you. But in my absence, I've accumulated much to tell you.

The senior associate, DA, and I had reservations at the Hyatt in Chicago, now called the Blake Hotel, for a set of depositions. When we arrived, we had some trouble finding the front door to the Blake. We weren't sure how to get in from all the construction. Eventually, we gained entry, and the desk clerk assured me that our floor, the sixth floor, was renovated.

When I got there, I found the hallway was indeed recarpeted and freshly painted. In my room, the bathroom had this kool old TV mounted on a pole. But that completely describes the Blake's good features.

Poor qualities were numerous:

• The hotel was undergoing extensive renovations, and the lobby was
  destroyed/the restaurant closed.
• A distant ICE machine might be making ice, on the 12th floor. I had no
  idea whether it worked.
• The whole premises had that really old smell, like my grandmother's
  house.
• But the last straw prompted me to phone the front desk clerk and check
  out - no Internet access.

He was quiet appologetic, and not the least bit surprised we were leaving. In fact, he sounded a bit lonesome and disappointed. There's nothing worse than travelling for most of the day and arriving in a shithole. So, I called the travel service, who booked us in another hotel, named the Monaco. The agent told me it was a mere 3 minute walk from the Blake.

We walked about 20 blocks in twenty minutes, and I got bird shit on my shirt collar.

DA: that's suppose to be good luck.

G-man (remembering this): I don't think so. Bad things happen in threes, so watch out.

Finally, we arrived, finding the Hotel Monaco to be very nice. They had free wine in the lobby. Kool suites. A sanctuary. Perhaps the bird shit was a harbinger. Little did I know that the third bad thing had already happened. We checked out so fast from the Blake that I forgot my drawers were still in a drawer. I walked round trip 40 minutes to go get them and come back. But not until I polished off a huge burger and a pint of pistachio ice cream.