Welcome to the Hyattyville Horror

Welcome to the Hyattyville Horror

Okay, you read (or not) my general recap of BlogHer ‘06.  But let me tell you the real drama.  I know that you are waiting for it.  The horror.  The terror.  The near death experiences.  Yes, my friends, the Hyatt tried to kill me.  (*Disclaimer:  There was nothing that the amazing triumvirate could do.  I am not complaining about the location.  Just the death the hotel wished upon me.)

When I arrived on Wednesday, I was told I was in cellblock 8 building 8.  No problem.  Great exercise.  Then I walked into the building.  Oh, yes, the battle had begun.  Hyattyville tried to sauna me out with the heat of a thousand saunas inside the hallways and room.  Right.  Trying to mess with a Texas gal by using heat?  Not a prayers chance of out heating me with the your measly 100% humidity and 105 degree hallways.  I laugh at that.  Come see Texas in August.  I thought perhaps I heard whispers of “Get out” when I got on the elevator and saw the sign that said the inspection expired in 2005.  Nah.  Not a problem.  I can take it.

Day two.  We notice that the left side of my face is swelling.  By 5:00pm I have been asked twice if I have a jawbreaker in my mouth.  Baffled by what it could be, I take Benadryl.  Take that Hyattyville.  Bring on your swelling.  I slap you down with the miracle that is Benadryl.  By Friday morning the swelling was down some.  I look just a tad off of the swelling.  Ha!  Battle won.

Friday night.  Hyattyville is getting rather pissed off that I am not heading it’s warnings and takes drastic measures.  The left side of my face swells to proportions that look as if I am doing my best half Marlo Brando/Godfather impression.  “Don’t mess with da family!” (Or in this case, “Don’t mess with da mommy bloggers.”) But no!  Seeing as I had the mighty sword of Benadryl, the Hyattyville threw in the Swelling Tongue of death.  My tongue had hives on it.  Hives.  Say it with me…..The hell??  So by 5:30pm on Friday, I am speaking in a very bizarre way.

“Are you drunk?” was a phrase I heard more than once.  To which I replied, “I am noth drunthk.  My tongthe ith thwollen. Doth thith soundth drunkth? No!  Thith is thwollen tongthe.” Oh it was on. It was SO ON. I had to speak twice the next day. I could not be Thwollen Tongthe Girl.  More Benadryl.  And just to be safe, a few LemonDrops.  Because what Benadryl cannot fix, Lemon Drops can make you forget.  By morning, a lot of the tongue swelling was down but not the face.  The hell?  By this time many, many of the women I was hanging out with were trying to guess at the cause.  Allergic to something I ate?  (Never have been before!) Something I drank?  (Certainly not alcohol.  Maybe ass water.) Spider bite?  (Okay, make me sleep with the light on and a shoe in my hand all night now!) Nothing seemed to fit.

Walking into the hotel on Saturday evening, I was used to the routine.  Face explodes.  Tongue swells.  People guess as to my ailment.  However, this time I heard the Hyattyville very clearly say it:  “Get out!” It even wrote it out for me. But like any idiot in a horror movie, I giggle nervously and stayed.

It wasn’t until 3:45am Saturday night/Sunday morning that I realized maybe I was in over my head here.  I crawled back to my bed with my very swollen face, a tongue that looked three times it’s normal size and a throat that was itchy and raw.  “You win!” I screamed at the Hyattyville.

Sunday morning after 2 hours of sleep, I think even Jenny heard it.  “GET OUT!”

Let me tell you something.  I threw stuff into my suitcases and got the hell out of dodge.  There is being tough and then there is being killed by a hotel.  This time the Hyattyville won.  But we are not finished, my horror friend.  If we shall we meet again, I will not let you take me down. 

Updateclickmom was less than happy that I left her hanging. (Sorry!).  In answer to her question as to whether it went away when I left the Hyattyville Horror Hotel, the answer is yes.  By the time I reached the comfy and safe (not trying to kill me) home of Jenny, I was just fine.  It WAS the hotel.  I swear it.


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