Mama, there is a ghost in my room!!!

I don't know about you but I farking hate to stay alone in a hotel. Be it a 5-star or a no-star one. I just don't like to stay in hotels. Any hotels.

And if I was given a single room with two single beds in it, I will cry like no tomorrow. Because my over-imaginative mind will not stop wondering what if there is 'someone' sleeping on the empty bed next to mine? I'll die man, I'll die. Laterally lah. Duh.

Give me a King size bed anytime and I'll be a very happy girl. Because I can sleep horizontally, vertically, diagonally, butterfly-ly or any other way that I like, to infiltrate and terrorize the whole bed. In a way, it gives me a false sense of security that there is no more room for 'the others' to sleep on my bed jor. Damn smart eh? ;pPpPPppp

Oh well, life is not a bed or roses but a box of chocolates. You never know what you are gonna get.

Some nice hotels will have a bell boy standby to carry your luggage up to your room for you. Some don't. To me, either way is fine because I'm not those girlie kinds of girls. If it's within my own means, I wouldn't mind doing it myself.

You see, what irks me the most is not whether someone will carry the luggage for me or not. My biggest concern stems from the bell boy's unorthodox routine: He knocked on my supposedly assigned room's door three times before letting me enter.

I mean WHAT THE HECK man. Why do you have to knock on the door THREE TIMES?! Why not FOUR, FIVE, or SIX times??? Isn't this an empty room? I mean WHY do you need to KNOCK on the door AT ALL??? Is this a local custom or something?!

I turned to look at the bell boy and gave him an exasperated look with an enquiring smile... hoping he will shed me some light on the door knocking practice. Abuthen, all he did was acknowledged my puzzled look with a nod. OMG. Is there something amiss here, my friend? My life's doomed.

Luckily, the room looks cozy and decent enough. So I settled in. I don't want to make a big fuss to change room, this and that, being bitchy and all, just because the bell boy knocked on the room's door three times before letting me in.

After stowing my bags, clothes and shoes away, I flipped open my laptop to reply some urgent e-mails from my mafia boss. I'm a teeny weeny bit of a workaholic. When I work, I work. I don't listen to the music nor turn on the TV. Because I need absolute silence to concentrate.

Just when I was squeezing my brain juice hard doing my work and all, the TV powered on by itself. And the most amazing part was that the remote control was still lying neatly and comfortably right next to the TV set. In other words, 'someone' turned on the TV remotely without using a remote control. And since the probability for a TV to power on by itself is nil, you can go figure out the rest.

Someone is in the room.

So yeah, my heart almost jumped out from my lungs. My hair almost turned grey. And I ALMOST peed in my pants.

At that instant, I had a great urge to pull out the power cables from the back of the TV. But I was damn scared that what if the TV turns on by itself again, even without the cables? Because if it does, then the existence of 'the others' is most solidly 'hardrock-confirmed'. No ifs, no buts. And I absofuckinglutely don't want to come face to face with 'it'. Especially in front of my very own eyes. Kill me first please.

Fortunately, the rational part of me still knows how to instruct my weak limbs to grab hold of the phone on the table, dial Zero to reach the reception, and ask the service desk personnel to accommodate my room change request IMMEDIATELY. Thank Jesus/Allah/Buddha that they complied. In fact, they are very 'understanding'. I'm not surprised.

And do you really think that the whole saga end there? No farking way.

On the day of my departure, I had an early flight to catch. So I headed to the front desk at around 5.30 in the morning with my luggage in tow. While waiting for the receptionist to print out the check-out receipt for me, I nonchalantly stole a glance at the blinking button on the front desk phone.

I said to her, "Maybe you want to pick up the call first while waiting for the printer to warm up."

She replied softly, "No worries ma'am, there is no guest staying in that room."

My heart skipped a beat.

I stole a glance at the phone again. Room 741. As shown on the display.

Holy Macaroooni Cheeeeeeeeese...!!!

That was the exact room I was allocated to on the very first night I arrived at the hotel.

My heart almost stopped. Can you imagine the horror on my face?

I waited for another minute or two (which felt like eons) for the print-out of the check-out receipt before I escaped fast and furiously from the hotel lobby with no turning-back, no regrets, and no-eyes-see.

And I vowed to myself that I will not step foot into that hotel ever again. Period.