So here I am at the airport. It’s 1.31am and my flight leaves at 3.35am. And I’ve got no-one to play with. Figure a drink is in order. I’m flying to Dubai, what fun. However I am reminded of my first trip. What horror. Talk about learning the customs real fast.

Picture this: alone, first time in a strange country, Dubai, 46c and the nightie.

I had been working long hours and knew that I needed sleep before the hot sun rose once again. So into bed I crawled and snuggled into beautiful cuddly pillows, welcome relief from a hectic day.

I fell into a deep sleep quickly. Sometime in the middle of the night nature called. Half asleep I got out of bed and shuffled to where a light beckoned under the door.  I opened the door, walked through and then I heard the sound – a large click. I turned around and, to my horror, saw that I had walked not into the bathroom, but out of my hotel room and into the corridor.

Inside I screamed. Where the hell am I ? I turned to knock on my door to waken Steve. In that moment I realized he’s not here. I’m all alone! I dare to look down. Please please don’t let me be naked.  I saw the ‘nightie’, a soft pink number. Oh why had I chosen this one? It clinged to every part of my body.  At least I had something on, trying to be brave now!

I looked down the corridor and all was quiet. It must have been very early in the morning.  How was I going to get back into my room ?  I paced, what I should do? There was only one option, I must get to reception before anyone saw me.  Go now… don’t think. I pressed the lift button I was on the 15th floor.

‘DING’  the doors started to open and my heart was beating so loud, I could hardly breathe –  my heart skipped a beat, phew the lift was empty – 14th, 13th, 12th, 11th, 10th floor, so far so good.

Then ‘DING’, oh no we were stopping on the 8th floor. I felt sick and moved to the corner of the lift, lovely mirrors on all  sides!  The doors opened with a sickening thud and in he walked, checking me from head to toe! Turnaround will you?? Please stop looking at me, my eyes plead. He turned and faced the door. I needed the ground floor NOW!!

‘DING’ – ground floor it is. My lift guest turned to me and said “After you Madame!” “‘No thanks – after you please sir.” There is only so much politeness a girl in a nightie can bear.

He walked out of the lift and turned around only once more with a wry smile on his face! I stood in the doorway of the lift and yell-whispered to reception, “Please please give me a key card for room 1515. I’ve locked myself out….”

The supervisor walked over and gave me a key and I quickly pressed 15th floor.  I’ve never felt so scared or helpless in my life; strange country, different customs and just me and my nightie.

I made it back to the room unscathed, but very embarrassed. After that I check the door every night before bed to make sure the lock was on. Then barricaded with a chair and hoped that this never happens to me again. I’m fine though if it happens to one of the other Aunties.

The airport announcements call me to my flight, and I walk proudly, secure in the knowledge that my case holds my full thickness, winter pajamas, covered from neck to ankle, no clinging, not for me, this time. Toot toot girls.

Love Aunty Lush (once more abroad)

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