I sleep around

I used to be one of those girls who had trouble sleeping. I couldn't sleep in a moving vehicle or with too much light or with my overactive imagination. Flashforward several long years, and you're now talking to a girl who can do it anywhere. My answer came in the form of whoring myself out to the joys of travel. My lust for parts unknown, the open road or simply somewhere other than where I currently am have led me to some interesting sleeping quarters. I've bedded down in foreign dorms, the floor of O'Hare, and even the couch of a friends apartment. I slept on raised bamboo in Thailand under a thatched roof and mosquito netting, a hotel shaped like a boat in Puerto Rico, and in a Vegas hotel room where the door wouldn't lock and was held shut by my propping a chair against the door. I do cars at rest stops and even caught a few winks behind the wheel and stopped at a traffic light. Last night I grabbed a couple of hours of sleep on the regional Amtrak as it barreled toward Connecticut and this morning napped a couple more hours on the bottom bunk of a four-year old's Strawberry Shortcake comforter. I guess you could say I sleep around.