He stood naked in the hallway, fumbling at the locked door of his hotel room at the Jurys Inn Heathrow. His first trip to England and Jackson Gray found himself in maybe the most embarrassing occasion of his adult life, and to top it off, he had to piss like the proverbial racehorse. The quandary of standing nude and having to whiz really bad on the 6th floor hallway of the Jurys Inn resulted from his over indulgence of bitters and strong ale at the Hotel Pub.
Jackson spent several hours in the Pub sampling frothy bitters and potent ales local to London, which names now escaped his memory. The names of those regional brews were left behind, along with his clothes in the damn hotel room that he raced out of in a fitful dream. Now, he stood naked as the day he was born, wondering how he would re-enter the privacy of his room through that locked door.
He cursed swilling so much drink, and condemned his idiocy of sleeping in the raw, away from home. The result of his guzzling all that British made brew caused him to stand, dumbfounded in his jaybird nakedness in the hotel of a foreign country. The only good thing about his predicament, it was in the wee hours of the morning, and no one else was out of his or her beds, at least on the 6th floor.
The number of beers Jackson downed earlier was unknown; all he remembered was he gulped down many verses a few, each one tasting better than the last. If he stayed with the bitters instead of advancing to the stronger ales, he may not have gotten so soused as to cause him to be standing nude outside his locked hotel room.
He remembered that the barman had warned; "Careful there, sir. This ale is just like a bee sting."
He realized that the barman wasn't exaggerating; the damn ale stung him so hard, it lifted his drunken ass right out of bed and his hotel room. The trauma of finding himself locked naked outside his room, immediately sobered Jackson Gray up, at least enough so he could worry, how the Hell he was going to get back in. He was glad that no one was around in the hallway to see his overweight, flabby form, naked and pathetic, standing in front of a locked door, hoping for some miracle to disengage the bolt.
Jackson scanned the 6th floor hallway, desperate to find some means to escape his dilemma, when he noticed an in-house telephone on a table near the elevator. He strolled casually down the hall to the phone in his nakedness, lifted the receiver to his ear and called the Lobby.
"Hello," Jackson greeted, "this is Mr. Gray in room 621. I've locked myself out of the room. Can you please send someone up with a key to let me in?"
"Of course sir," answered the Front Desk, "we'll send a man up right away."
Jackson hung up the receiver, thankful that the desk specified a man was coming to his rescue, so he didn't have to admit his nude condition and advertise his embarrassment.
"Oh, and make sure not to send a woman with my key, because I'm standing out here without a stitch on, just flapping in the breeze."
He returned to his locked door and waited. Soon, the bell rang at the elevator, the doors slid open and a man dressed in a hotel uniform stepped out onto the 6th floor. He looked toward Jackson, standing naked in the hallway, shook his head and smiled. Jackson covered his privates with cupped hands and smiled back.
The Hotel bellman opened Jackson's door with a master key, saying; "Have a good night sir."
"I already did," remarked Jackson, as he quickly stepped inside to use the toilet, "and that's the naked truth!"