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This is a relatively short entry. I hope getting this out of my head and into the world will help purge the demon.

The night before leaving New York, I watched  tv in bed. I turned off the tv before curling up to fall asleep. I don’t remember where I put the remote, but I didn’t get out of bed so it couldn’t have gone far.

I woke up before my first alarm went off and couldn’t go back to sleep. Since I was up, I figured I’d watch a little Mike and Mike in the Morning to catch up on the MLB playoffs.

This plan was foiled when I couldn’t find the remote. It had disappeared while I was asleep. I checked under the bed. In my suitcase. Behind the end tables. In the duvet on the bed.  Gone. I turned the room over and couldn’t find it.

I left for the client site and wasn’t able to shake the missing remote from my mind. Did someone sneak in and take it? Did I eat it while sleeping? Where the hell did it go?

If you’re wondering, I watched nothing while getting ready to leave the hotel. Yes, I know how to use the buttons on a tv. However, the tuner on the tv wasn’t used to control the channels. The Marriott in-house programming delivery system was in charge and it only responds to the remote.

I learned an important lesson about myself this week. I may have already known this. I am a social introvert. I’ve avoided parties, get togethers, meet and greets, or any other gathering of people where conversation, mingling or boldness is required.

Give me a small group of people I kind of know and I’m all set. I’ll find a way to blend in and have fun. Dinner with one or two people? Lots of direct conversation and interaction. I’m ok with that.

I think 5 or 6 people in a group is sufficiently large. Anything bigger and I disappear into the crowd. You’ll probably find me ensuring the load bearing wall doesn’t move or counting ceiling tiles over and over. Eventually, I will awkwardly back away from the conversation and plan my exit strategy.

This is why I say I’m antisocial. It’s not that I don’t like people. I generally do. People are almost universally interesting to me. I’m fascinated by just about each and every person I meet. There’s always a story, a passion or something that makes them unique. I love taking the time to get to know people.

Chances are good, if I need to go someplace where a big group is meeting and I have to mingle to find things out about people, I’m going to pass.

The only places where all of the above is untrue? With my close friends (those that I have) and at work. For all you serial minglers out there that meet hundreds of people socially every year with glee, I probably meet three times as many at work.

(Why did I take a job that makes me talk in front of people? There’s a blog for another day.)

So, what I’m saying is that I’d love to meet all of you. I’d love to learn all about who you are and mostly what makes you tick. If you’re going to insist that I do this in social situations that involve mingling, I’ll probably pass so I don’t have to feel intimidated in your big group.

Besides, who needs personal interaction? I have social networks to fill that void in my life.

What a week. I had a few moments this week I feel the desire to blog about. This will be the first of a short series.

New York is far more vertical than my memories from 10 years ago. It makes sense though. Its an island. Hit the water line and the only direction to build is up. Even parking lots (not structures) are built vertically with cars stacked in neat mechanical carousels.

On my second night in town, I had dinner at the hotel sports bar. It was an adventurous choice, I know. A tasty Caesar salad later, I headed back to my room with a slice of cheesecake in tow.

When I got to the elevator bank, I found an attractive woman who was either in her early 40s or had lived a hard 30 years. She was on her phone and I heard her ask the other person to verify their room number. She had a very distinct accent.

A few pleasantries later and the elevator arrived. I got on the elevator behind her and another man who had joined the waiting party. When I’d gotten in, I noticed my floor was selected and went to the back of the elevator.

The woman commented on my covered plate from the sports bar and asked, “you can take your dinner to your room?”

“Sure, but this is dessert,” I said as I showed my elevator mates that I had a cheesecake.

“Ooh, that looks good,” she said.

“You can order one from room service. They’d be happy to,” I said. I was trying to be helpful. She just laughed.

We arrived on my floor and she walked into the elevator lobby. As I walked out of the elevator behind her, she turned around and looked surprised.

“I’m not following you,” I reassured. “I’m on this floor.”

She smiled and we parted ways.

My room this week was directly across from the elevator bank. I heard people milling about at all hours of the night. Forty five minutes after returning to my room, I heard her voice in the hallway. Her voice pierced my hotel room. I mentioned it was distinct, right? I heard her talking to someone on the phone again.

“You’re at what address again? Yes, I can be there in 30 minutes. No, cash only. Don’t forget to tell the front desk you’re expecting a visitor. They won’t let me up, if you don’t. Yes, about half an hour.”

Then I heard the elevator chime and she was gone.