In my day job, it is not uncommon for me to travel several times a year for company events and trade shows. I'm the person who swoops in to make sure things look good before an event. I'm also the person who gets the phone call if things don't look good when the rest of our team arrives. These phone calls have made me cry, so I typically like to avoid them altogether.
But in my very pregnant state, I've had to pass on some of my usual travels until baby Tilly arrives. After one very awkward dinner, where I was the only female in attendance (this is not uncommon working in manufacturing/construction), I learned that 15 grown men will talk non-stop about your pregnancy even if they're all secretly hating every second of it.
So, a few weeks ago, I packed up the company Tahoe and putt-putted my way down to New Orleans by myself for one night for my last work trip. It was our largest industry event of the year, and I wasn't going to risk something being wrong. If those "something-is-terribly-wrong" phone calls made me cry before I was pregnant, a full-on meltdown would happen now if I got that call.
After a long drive and several hours spent at the Convention Center, I was ready to get to my hotel, elevate my feet and not budge for the rest of the evening. The company's executive assistant, whom I love dearly, booked a room for me at the Windsor Court. This is a little nicer than my typical accommodations, but who was I to argue.
I checked in at the front desk and made my way to my room. I slid my plastic room key into the door, waited for the green light, flung the door open and immediately thought a mistake had been made.
My room was a suite. I thought there must have been a mistake when the room was booked. I thought the hotel must have made a critical error and placed me in the room reserved for my boss. I thought I better keep my mouth shut, act like I belong and enjoy every minute.
It was comfortable, stylish and very cozy. From the angle this picture was taken, my back was against a wall of windows with sweeping views of downtown New Orleans and the riverfront.
Near the front door as you enter the suite, there was a room designated specifically for bar goodies, drinks and snacks.
The bathroom was luxurious and beautiful. Not to mention the bath products that smelled so divine, like they were made from hummingbird tears. I was tempted to lift them, but resisted the urge in an effort to pretend that I was classy.
Across from the bathroom was a cute little vanity area for me to get ready in the morning.
And finally, in the back of the suite was this beautiful bedroom. When I finally tucked in for the evening, I called home to tell my husband that I was pretty sure the sheets had been ironed.
I spent the evening wrapped up in my Windsor Court bathrobe, watching TV and snacking on the pecan pralines turn down service left on my nightstand. And after I checked out and got back home, I spent the rest of the weekend telling Ty that I wanted to go back to the suite at the Windsor Court.
On my way home the following day, I finally spoke with our executive assistant and mentioned my fine accommodations. She said she wanted me to be somewhere safe and nice since I was traveling alone and pregnant.
I told her how much I appreciated it, and under these conditions, I would be willing to travel pregnant more often. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, I was ready to plan my second pregnancy!