Several years ago, when I was still firmly in the closet, I went on a business trip to Dallas, Texas. I put some of Abby?s finery in my luggage. On a rainy Sunday afternoon about 2pm, I was dressed in my hotel room on the second floor, just chilling, when someone knocked on the door. I ignored it. Over the next couple hours, there were nearly ten such knocks on the door, some of it strong insistent pounding. I changed to drab at 4pm and went out onto the second floor outdoor balcony/walkway. There I met the hotel manager who invited me to a party on an upper floor to wait out the rain. He said that he knocked on the doors of all occupied units to warn guests that everyone in the hotel was trapped by rising floodwaters of the Trinity River. He pounded insistently on the door because he knew I was in there. I just responded that I was sleeping after a long flight and that I have slept through California earthquakes and Army artillery barrages, which is true but another story. As hotel manager, he organized a guest party to keep everyone calm. Then he invited all guests by going to each unit individually. The floodwaters topped out at a meter deep on the first floor. He knew that the record depth many years previous was two meters deep on the second floor. We would be safe if he could get everybody above the third floor. The local snakes were climbing the outdoor stairwells to get out of the floodwaters. Some idiot panicked and tried to drive a car away, only to stall it blocking the parking lot entrance in chest deep water. The manager did the party to distract everyone and prevent further needless panic. I decided karma was not on my side and did not to dress again that trip.
