STRANGER THAN FICTION; BUSINESS TRAVEL NOT AS GLAMOROUS AS COMMERCIALS MAKE IT OUT TO BE

When you deal with a noisy air conditioner, an ant-covered mattress and a broken phone in one night, you realize that maybe a motel chain's advertising isn't exactly accurate.

Last week marked my first true, long-term business trip.

Sure, I'd flown to another city for a job interview, New York for a seminar, etc., but never been on the road -- just me, my rental car and my appointment book -- for a whole week.

And frankly, I was feeling just a bit full of myself.

I was in the same class as those guys you see sitting on airplanes and reading the Wall Street Journal. The guys in navy blue suits you see wandering motel lobbies in the early morning. The women in updos, power pumps and modern eyeglasses marching through the halls of major corporations.

I wasn't just some inexpensively attired reporter from a mid-sized newspaper, dammit, I was a CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY!

At least that's the way I saw it.

Today, a week older and much wiser, I know the truth. Business traveling stinks. It's full of pitfalls and should be avoided at all costs, as you can see from my diary excerpts.

DAY ONE

Dear Maude: (I've named my diary Maude.)

Arrived in Tallahassee safely and selected a decent-looking motel.

I'll call it the Quality Comfort Budget Super Motel and Suites. The college student at the front desk cut me a deal -- do I look THAT scraggly? -- and let me stay for $10 less than the usual price.

My first room had an air conditioner that sounded like the Death Star's engines. The nice college student moved me to another room. That one seemed OK until I felt something crawling on me in bed. And I was alone! I threw back the covers and found ants. After battling them with a bottle of Paul Mitchell hairspray -- a fairly expensive battle -- I approached the increasingly irritable college student a second time. "Were they just those little black sugar ants?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" I replied.

He moved me to another room. The phone didn't work. I waited until morning to address the problem, figuring there'd be a different clerk on duty.

DAY TWO

Dear Maude:

People in Florida drive like LUNATICS!!! It's very stressful for someone in a nice rental car. Unfortunately, the rental car has Ohio tags, so all the native Floridians think I'm just another tourist who can't handle traffic. But they're the problem, not me!

I realized this morning that I didn't bring my deodorant. Wonder if the commercial is right. Does it really last two whole days?

DAY THREE

Dear Maude:

It doesn't.

I purchased underarm protection and then interviewed Jeb Bush, governor of Florida, brother of George W., son of President George. I was a bit nervous, Maude, so I went to the bathroom and repeatedly checked my appearance. My hair was as good as it gets, my makeup acceptable.

After emerging from the interview, I checked my appearance again. There was a long streak of dried diet cola dribbles down the front of my white shirt. Where the hell did THEY come from???

I ordered lobster for dinner -- on the company tab, of course. They were on sale at the restaurant for $15 each. After I ate my dinner salad and complimentary rolls, the waitress brought her manager to the table. He put his hand on my shoulder in a comforting way. "We're out of lobster," he said. "I just sold the last one."

The waitress shook her head sadly. "I am so, SO sorry about this," she said.

I know I'm pretty fat, but did it really take two people showing great remorse to tell me that my dinner wasn't going to happen? I'm surprised they didn't try to refer me into grief counseling.

DAY FOUR

Dear Maude:

On to Orlando!

Interstate 75 is marked by a bunch of these strange billboards. They feature pictures of women's faces only, then, in huge neon print, "WE BARE ALL!" Underneath, in much smaller print, the signs say, "Good Food."

I mean, if you're a man with totally naked waitresses serving you lunch, do you really care about the quality of the food? You'd probably eat shoe leather with a smile.

DAY FIVE:

Dear Maude:

I've realized the one benefit of dining alone -- you can put your dirty plates across the table, because there's no dinner companion taking up all that extra space!

I ate at the motel restaurant tonight. There were a bunch of guys in there who were alone, too. I thought about asking to join one of them for some dinner conversation, but they'd probably think I was some kind of Amazon hooker.

I can't wait to go home.