24 Romantic Hours in Toronto

24 Romantic Hours in Toronto

I’m sitting in the Toronto airport waiting to fly back to Calgary. I was here for 24 hours for a meeting and some shoots for Dave Kelly Live.

My brother Rob was out here as well, but because of scheduling flew out a few hours before me. Since it was just the two of us coming out to Toronto, and since we’re brothers who lived together growing up, we thought, “Why not just use one hotel room?” Save some money, right?!

ANYHOOOOOO… here’s how that went.

Last night I arrived at the hotel quite late, like 1 a.m. I went up to the desk at the hotel and the lonely looking guy said, “Welcome. What’s your name?”

“Dave Kelly.”

He click click clicked away on his computer. He looked confused. Looked at me. Looked back down.

“Sorry, what was your last name?”

“Kelly.”

“And you haven’t checked in?”

“No. I just got here – but my brother has been here awhile.”

“Oh. That could explain it. And what’s his name?”

“Rob.”

“Oh, okay,” a look of deep concern. Tappitty tappitty tap.

“Does he know you’re coming?”

“Yes”

“Hmmm.” He called someone over and the had a hushed late night manager conversation. He went back to the computer. Tappity tap. Then he looked up.

“And you’re not Rob?”

“No. I’m Dave. But I might be John, depending on what you need.”

“Sorry?”

“My actual name is John David Kelly. So sometimes my name shows up as John. But it’s Dave.”

Blank stares from both of them.

“Never mind. Look for Dave.”

“And you want a key for the room?”

“Yes. I actually want to sleep in the room.”

It was clearly a situation he had not dealt with. They talked to each other some more and then came up with a solution.

“Mr Kelly, we’re going to have to call the room and talk to your brother.”

So they called and woke up Rob to ask him if it’s okay if I came up. He said sure. Then they gave me my key and I headed to the elevator.

So far, so clunky. And if you’re all asking yourselves, “Can this get more clunky?” “Yes,” I can confidently say, “Yes it can.” See if you can follow this:

Because in his sleepiness, Rob had hung up the phone then went and opened the room door and braced it open with that hinged door lock thing. “That will help Dave,” he thought – and promptly fell back into a deep sleep – the kind of sleep that only Rob can do.

I arrived at my floor (10th, if you’re counting), looked at my key card thing and to check the number and it said 1012. So I go down the hall to room 1012 and the door is braced open. “Hmm….” I think, “is this Rob’s room?”

I stood there in the hall, checked the number on the door, checked my key, then stared at the number. I considered closing the door so I could check if my key opened it.

I knocked. Nothing.

I pushed the door open. It’s dark. I can make out two beds. There is someone sleeping in the far bed. At least I think there is. The bed looked unmade and lumpy. “Hello?” I say.

Nothing.

I put my stuff down and thought, “It has to be Rob, right?” But I don’t know. I stood there for awhile, then I realized the bathroom is right beside me. So I stepped in, closed the door, and turned on the light, searching for clues.

No toothpaste, no shaving kit with “To Rob Kelly from your wife Nina” engraved on it. That would have been a good clue. But there’s nothing. Did this person even brush their teeth? I turned the light off, and opened the door back into the dark room.

I stood there. With a sleeping person in one of the beds. Wait. MAYBE IT’S A DEAD BODY!!! It wasn’t. It was definitely a sleeping body.

I took out my phone and turned on the light, bracing myself for, “WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!!”

Nothing.

I saw a suitcase on the floor near the bed, so I tip toed over and crouched down beside it with my light and I was right. Yes. It was a suitcase. Again, no helpful engraving.

Then beside the suitcase I saw boots. They were Rob’s boots. Or at least they sure looked like his. They were brown. Rob wears brown boots.

I stood up and slowly walked back to the other bed. By then it must have been two in the morning and I was exhausted. I quietly got my shaving kit out, went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I came back and got into the other bed, trusting that no one else in Toronto wore brown boots.

Eventually, I fell asleep, never really knowing if it was Rob beside me . . . until the hotel room alarm clock went off at 5 a.m. and I definitely heard Rob using not-very-nice language about “What Kind of Idiot Leaves The Alarm Set After They Check Out?!!!” Eventually Rob found the clock and turned it off.

Then he went back to sleep. Not me. I thought “Well, three hours sleep is plenty in Toronto, right?”

And that’s the fun I had with Rob last night.

And tonight I will get home late. Blythe will be asleep. And I will look for boots. She also wears brown boots.

Dave,