Christina Dodd And The Banana Book Tour

Day 1 — Starting at 5:20am I take three flights to Buffalo NY, landing at 6 pm, then a cab to the Unnamed Really Expensive Chain Hotel. The cab driver puts the suitcases, which weigh a ton because of promotional materials, on the sidewalk because there’s no doorman or assistance of any kind. (I repeat, Really Expensive Chain Hotel.) I wrestle the suitcases through the double door into the lobby.

While I check in, the desk staff asks if I want reservations for the steakhouse. I say no, I got up at 3 am, I’ve got an autographing at noon the next day, and I want room service and bed.

I ask, “Can I get help with my bags?” Because there’s no bell staff. They find some guy in a suit (the manager of this fine establishment?) who gets a cart. He brings the bags up to my room and does none of the usual bell staff services like, notably, turn on the heat (it’s Buffalo in February.)

I order a steak, potatoes and salad off the room service menu. I suspect you’re getting the theme here…Yes, the cow had died from old age, the salad was slimy, the potatoes oozed yellow grease. 🤢Afterwards I went down to the bar and ordered a double cognac to kill the incipient food poisoning.

I’m not posting a photo of that. You’re welcome. Also, punchline coming right up.

Day 2 — I order room service breakfast. Oatmeal, bowl of fruit and OJ. It arrives late (I have an autographing, people! Bookstore owners take it badly when the author is late!), and the room service lady says, “Someone’s coming behind me with your fruit.” Thank you. The scanty bit of oatmeal has a film on it. I find out the hard way there are lumps. I spit one back into the bowl. There’s a knock at the door. It’s her again — and she hands me a BANANA. As I stare incredulously at my “bowl of fruit,” she says, “Do you want this one, too?” And pulls a second banana out of her armpit where she was carrying it. 

Let’s pause while you contemplate the horror. Or laugh. Or both.

Then let me say — I emailed my publicist who immediately told me to pack and moved me to a lovely bed and breakfast. But also when I asked, “You’re laughing, aren’t you?” She said, (I quote), “Spit out my Special K and yogurt, actually, I was laughing so hard.”

In ten days I lost four pounds, I autographed books in multiple bookstores, and while the book signings were great, ten days away is a long, long time, especially when it involves me being pleasant for more than one day in a row. Ask anyone who knows me. I’m a writer. Social is barely in my skill set. When I got home, I kissed the floor.