Rude Awakening

After attending Abby's 3rd birthday party last Saturday and delivering the boys to 'camp out', by which I mean camp-in, with their grandparents, Heidi and I checked-in to a luxury suite at the Renton Holiday Inn. It was through the kindness of the clerk that we were allowed to stay on the 6th floor, home of the prestigious "Priority Club" suites.
It was, in fact, a nice room. Spacious and conspicuously lacking that ambiguous, musty smell of the standard rooms on the lower floors. Despite this, my inner skeptic prevented me from buying-in to the marketing card left on the bed reading:
"Give us your hungry, your tired..." blahblahblah "...those who yearn for a good night's sleep."
Yes, I yearn, it's true. However a little piece of cardboard (that looked reused at that) placed on my pillow was not the sort of token I'd perceive as a guarantee of success.
While I love being proved correct in my skeptical ways, in this case I would have been, at minimum, just as happy to have been wrong.
For minutes after midnight, just as I was undoubtedly settling in to my 2nd hour of peaceful slumber, an insistent rattling rang from our door-handle. Heidi is a light sleeper and such aggressive clatter had her alert as the meerkat-on-watch instantly. Meanwhile, my consciousness began to surface like an old tire dredged by a fisherman from the bottom of a lake and quite coated still, thickly with the mud of sleep, so that the true tread of my wakeful self wasn't apparent. Deep inside I knew I had set the safety-latch on the door so that no-one could barge in and disturb us, not to mention the improbability of someone foiling the electronic card-key system. So I resolved to resist the fisherman's insistant tug and was succeeding fantastically, dropping deeply, darkly, back to slumber when suddenly: bright light, loud voice.
Yes the rattling revelers had managed, incomprehensibly, to open our door as much as the safety-latch would allow.
Terrorist? Murderer? Mugger? Idiot? My mind sifted through the options while the intruder proceeded to unleash all manner of arguments and persuasions designed to rouse us to some action. Heidi could explain the whole plot-arc of his tirade, but to me it was all but indecipherable. Nevertheless, I attempted to diffuse the situation with this silver bullet: "We're sleeping!" in as irritable voice as I can muster. And, as most of you know, I can muster like Custer when you wake me up.
Bafflingly, the man was not yet satisfied with my logic and tone, although substantially subdued, according to Heidi.
He carried on blah blah blah blah blah, and finally, as my senses were very nearly clear, suggested that we might both contact the front desk. That struck me as a capital idea indeed, so I readily agreed to call the front desk, wishing wistfully that some just punishment would befall him for his evil actions.
Whatever. He left. Yay. The front desk said, weakly: "Sorry, won't happen again." I should hope not.
The thick slog of adrenaline through my tired heart promised to keep me awake for 30 minutes more at least.
It was all worth it though. Heidi hailed me as a hero for "handling" the situation. In particular the setting of the safety-latch prior to retiring to bed. And, for intimidating the fellow with my curmudgeon-iest voice.