Change

I've been visiting Syracuse for work for the past 20 years or so. I normally stay in the same hotel, visit the same restaurant and try as I might to sleep in the same room. I'm not much interested in varying the routine.

So, I checked into my room, turned on the laptop and got to work, with an eye on catching dinner a little later. All at once, there were two loud blasts.

Sounds like a transformer blew I thought.

The lights flickered and then went out. Television off, computer switched to battery power, but it grew a tad annoying. I was still typing, mind you, but the fire alarms blasting through the hotel halls caused me to pause for a couple of sentences.

I'm not going anywhere, I thought.

I heard voices gathering in the hall and outside my first floor window. I clearly heard someone say that the explosion and fire was down the street and that there wasn't anything wrong with our hotel - other than the power going off.

I saved the report I was writing, and checked the battery power. I could write another report.

The fire alarm was still going off. Someone knocked at the door. Annoyed I got up and opened the door.

"You can ignore the fire alarm," the girl from the front desk reported.

"Really, thanks."

"We probably won't have power until at least nine o'clock tonight. We can switch you to another hotel or you can sit here in the dark."

I wanted to explain how much I hated change. I wanted her to figure out what was wrong and fix it before the Yankee game started. I needed to finish my reports, eat at my usual chair in the same old restaurant, and not talk to anyone.

"Those are the options," she said. "Sorry."

I packed up my things, closed down the computer, and headed out the door. The two desk clerks were wondering about the damage and how it would affect the rest of their evening. Would the hotel close? Was there a fire nearby? The sirens were blaring up and down the street.

I couldn't have cared less about where they were coming from.

I was being forced to change.

I hate change.

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