This past weekend we left at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning to drive down to Indianapolis to spectate a major professional golf tournament at a course on which extremely close friends live. Another couple, with whom we are not as close, came to do the same and spend the night as well.
We started making cocktails in the afternoon to sip while following the golfers in the spitting rain. Afternoon vodka with lemonade with a splash of cranberry juice ran right into happy hour, which ran right into dinner with more red wine then a Bailey’s on the rocks (for dessert?) around the fire pit at midnight. Lots of good friends, drinks and laughs.
When everyone diverted to their proper bunking spots (master bedroom on the first floor and the other bedrooms upstairs), we were all intensely tired and heading straight into the feathers. I washed up and started digging for pajamas in the bag I packed for the one day stay. Oops! Not the first time I have forgotten them, but I am usually at a hotel when I do, not in someone’s home. It’s been crazy with moving and traveling out of a suitcase back and forth to the summer spot, etc… My life is not organized at all right now.
Tipsy me thought, “I hate sleeping in a thong. No big deal. We’re all exhausted. I’ll just sneak between the sheets of this (tiny seeming queen sized) bed. Naked. No one will be the wiser and the soft flannel will feel good.”
Wrong. (to the part where no one would notice)
The next thing I remember is crossing the room in the dark. Then opening a door to the light.
As I sleep walk, I typically converse internally.
“Where am I going? What’s out here that I am looking for? Why am I standing in this hall?”
Then, “What the f%$k am I doing here?”
You know the kind of houses that have an open catwalk kind of upstairs hall with railings on both sides? An open, cathedral ceiling foyer with a chandelier and a window above the front door on one side and a living room over the other. That’s the spot. The chandelier was glowing and, yes, I was standing completely naked in the middle of the open hall.
If, indeed, the bathroom was where I was headed, which I am not sure it was, I had not opened the right door. And there I was.
Since I was now up, I figured I should take a potty break before getting back in bed.
The next morning I was telling my friend, who was sleeping down the SAME hall with her husband, what I remembered about my night adventure.
My husband chimed in, “Yeah. I heard the door open and saw you walk out into the hall because the light was on. I figured I would go get you if you got too far or didn’t come back in the next few minutes.”
“Uh, thanks…What if someone was up, and you were taking your sweet time retrieving me? Not sure my nakedness is what anyone would want or expect at 3:00 in the morning.”
The other husband said he would have been okay with it.
The lesson: If you are a confirmed sleepwalker, double check your bag for essentials before you leave the house especially if you are sharing the space with others. I’m sure there are other lessons, as well…