Emergency Exit

It was the worst kind of dream. The kind where unsettling things are happening, and you know it's a dream, but you can't wake up, no matter how hard you try.

I had finally clawed myself free from its clutches. I knew that I was awake because I was standing erect and I was gripping a hotel key card in my fist. That was a good thing, because I was standing in a hotel hallway with a series of doors on either side.

No problem. I had the key card. I would open the door in front of me and go in. I inserted the card in the metallic reading device. I was so sure that the LED light on the reader would turn green and the lock would unlatch with a reassuring clank that I already had my other hand on the door handle.

The light turned red.

OK, not my room. There was no room number on the card, of course. I checked the number on the door, but it meant nothing to me. I could not recall the number of the room I had checked into. The hotel had helpfully assigned a bellboy to escort me with my bags and I had not bothered to store a room number in memory. There was nothing for it but to try the next door.

Another red light.

By the time I encountered the third red light in the series, I had made the discomfiting discovery that I lacked clothing. I was stark naked - no socks, not the slightest stitch of underwear. As I inserted my key into the fourth door I found myself feeling gratitude that, so far, no occupants of any of the rooms I tried had made any protest, since a face-to-face encounter might prove embarrassing to all parties involved.

This time, of course, a voice responded from inside the room. It spoke in a language I did not understand, but I could guess at the general meaning: "Who is out there rattling my door?"

"Sorry," I answered in English. "Wrong room!"

I moved on to the next room. There was no other option.

After a few more tries, the card reader light finally turned green, much to my relief. However, my attempt to open the door resulted in an angry "beep" from the device.

As I looked down I noticed for the first time that there was a tiny LCD display under the lights along with a sequence of numbered buttons. The display currently read, "ENTER YOUR PASSWORD."

Password? I had not been given a password, nor had I assigned one! I remembered the sneer on the bellboy's face when he had stood in front of me after delivering my bags - only two, not very heavy. I hadn't actually needed any help, to tell the truth.

I had rummaged in my pocket and found a few coins in the local currency, but this had apparently been a huge disappointment to him, judging from his abrupt departure and the firm slam he administered to the door on his exit. Was this his revenge?

I tried entering the room number first, since I thought it a logical choice. I could see now that I was staying in 523.

The green LED light turned yellow and began flashing.

OK, try again, I guess.

How about my birthdate? I assumed the hotel could have copied it from my identification card.

No luck. The yellow light kept flashing.

Phone number? I had provided one to confirm the reservation.

Now the light stayed a solid yellow. The prompt on the LCD screen changed to: "RESET YOUR PASSWORD."

I removed the key card from the reader and tried again. Same yellow light. Same prompt. Three failures must have been the maximum number. Now I was truly scr..., well, stuck.

I took five deep breaths and tried to calm myself.

There was no alternative. I was going to have to make my way down to the lobby and ask some half-asleep night clerk to assign me a new password. And I was going to have to do this naked.

Well, I told myself, this wouldn't be the first time... It probably happened every night, or at least every once in a while. The night clerks were probably inured to all kinds of odd behavior from the hotel guests. Chances are they wouldn't have me immediately arrested for indecent exposure. I hoped...

As I recalled, the elevator was back the way I had come. This fuzzy memory was confirmed almost immediately by a sign that read "ELEVATOR."

I followed the sign and found the shaft in the middle of a short side hall. It was adorned by artificial potted plants on either side, along with a discrete trash receptacle. The polished steel doors shone like mirrors. I deliberately avoided looking at my unclad reflection as I approached them and desperately punched the call button.

Nothing happened.

I punched the button again and by my third attempt I noticed that there was a key card reader mounted above the button panel. Why on God's polluted, over-populated, garbage-encrusted earth they needed this level of security at such an unremarkable premises I had no idea.

I inserted my card half-heartedly, hoping that passwords would not be an issue for merely boarding the conveyance device from the inside of the business. My hopes, of course were dashed. The light on the reader turned yellow and the LCD display read "RESET YOUR PASSWORD."

As I stood in front of the silent doors considering my next move, I heard the motor at the top of the hoist way grind to life. Someone else had summoned the car!

I quickly calculated the odds of the elevator coming to my floor. According to the display above the doors, it was currently on Floor One. I was on Floor Five, so there was a 25% chance that the passenger planned to disembark at my level. Definitely a reasonable possibility, and it only improved as the elevator car passed Floor Two and kept rising.

When the display showed that the elevator had passed Floor Four, I quickly concealed myself as best I could behind the potted plant to the right of the elevator doors. As the current passenger emerged, I planned to slip in as quickly and quietly as I could before the doors closed. I would then be on my way to the lobby so that I could enlist the night clerk's aid!

The doors opened at last, and I waited for my chance to dash on board, but no one came out, even though the doors stayed frozen in place. I peeked through the leaves of the plant that was serving as my cover and watched as a couple - a man and a woman - kissed passionately in the doorway. They finished and the man whispered intently into the woman's ear. She seemed reluctant and pushed him away, but he grabbed her by the wrists and tried to pull her back into the elevator car. I couldn't make out any of his words - he wasn't speaking English, as far as I could tell. Finally he prevailed. They retreated from view and the doors swished closed.

Disappointment rose like bile in my throat, even though I told myself I was no worse off than before. I waited for what seemed a long while, but the drive motor of the elevator remained as silent as a coffin.

Surely, the elevator wasn't the only way down. Surely, there were stairs at each end of the hallway. At this point, I had no other choice.

The hallway to the left seemed shorter, but it took a right turn and I decided to follow it to the bitter end anyway. At least I encountered no other hotel occupants as I slunk along the carpet.

My luck did not extend to the key card reader. There was no access to the stairs without a key card, and when I inserted mine, the result was as expected: "RESET YOUR PASSWORD."

At this point I gave in to total desperation. I didn't dare scream in rage, but an image of the hotel burning the ground forced its way into my head.

I realized then that this was a stroke of genius. If there was a fire, the door locks would certainly be overridden. Even if they were not, I could join the throngs of escaping guests and some of them might even be as underdressed as I was in the general panic.

My challenge was how to trigger the smoke detector. I literally had nothing on me but a piece of plasticized paper embossed with a magnetic strip.

Urging my brain into a somewhat higher gear, I flashed on the memory of the trash bin near the elevator. Surely there was some kind of kindling in there and maybe even a pair of discarded chopsticks from the Asian Fusion restaurant next door. In the Boy Scouts, I had learned to make a fire by rubbing sticks together, although it was always much easier if one of the sticks was a match.

I am aware that this all sounds insane. My chances of success were astronomically low. As I made my way back down the hallway, I contemplated my absolute final resort. I could knock on the door of one of my fellow guests and, after they had almost gone into cardiac arrest from shock, I could ask for their help. In the past, I had never had very good luck trusting in the kindness of strangers. I was hoping against hope that I wouldn't need to do that now.

I approached the trash bin as furtively as a primeval hunter, then pounced and soundlessly (almost) wrenched off the lid with the swinging doors. Yes! There was a large load of detritus within. I had no gloves, of course, but hygiene was my very last concern at the moment, so I began pawing through the contents.

I found some used tissues that were reasonably dry. A crumpled paper bag and a paper coffee cup. Empty sugar bags. A travel brochure. And then at the bottom, like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, a matchbook! I almost yelped in glee as I fished for it, praying to the gods of the primeval jungle that it was not an empty pot of gold.

Praise to whoever those gods were! There were three unused matches in the book.

Noting the presence of a smoke detector in the ceiling just above the elevator, I decided to build my fire right there, in front of the doors. I piled my assortment of trash into an unkempt mound and knelt on the carpet as if I were making an offering to the hunting gods who had been so very gracious.

I pulled the first match from the book and struck it. Unfortunately, the match head was just the slightest bit soggy, so it crumbled uselessly onto the pile of paper,

I was much more careful striking the second match. It flared briefly and then faded into smoke. Foiled again!

There was one more match left. I appealed to my unknown gods again and, with my hands trembling, pulled the final match from the book.

Before I could even try to strike it, a siren blared out loudly enough to wake the dead, or nearly dead.

The sound was so overpowering that it must have knocked me over. I was lying on my side as the siren continued to shriek. Then there was an unintelligible, garbled announcement - maybe in English, maybe not.

I gazed about blearily and realized that I was actually lying on my bed in the hotel room. Had I been dreaming after all?

The siren and the announcement continued to sound inside the room. I thought I could recognize the words "DANGER" and "STAIRWAY."

Well, whether I had lit the fire or not, my goal had been accomplished. We were being directed to evacuate the hotel by means of the stairway.

I rolled out of bed and found out that I was, indeed, naked. I slipped on an undershirt and pulled on a pair of pants. Before heading for the door I made sure to scoop up my key card from the top of the dresser and I also grabbed my computer bag.

At the door I could hear the rumble of feet in the hallway. Now I would join them just as I had planned and go down the stairs with the crowd. One way or another, my ordeal would be over!

I reached for the handle, but the door wouldn't open. As I checked to make sure I hadn't thrown the privacy bolt, I noticed a key card reader.

Inside the room? Why inside the room? The hotel might be aflame, for goodness sake!

I quickly slid my card into the reader. Surely, if I hadn't died in my sleep and gone to hell, the whole password issue would be...

The light on the reader glowed solid yellow and the LCD display showed the message: "RESET YOUR PASSWORD."