Hotel for Phobics - Vic Davey-short story

 

                                               
 

When the invitation for the Phobia Convention dropped into my inbox, I was surprised to see it would be held at a Hotel in Leeds. 

I wondered just how many would actually turn up? I just had to have help, so I registered online, paid my fee and, with my fear of heights, booked a ground floor room at the Hotel. 

Also, my claustrophobia precluded using the elevator. 

I checked into the Hotel on the said day, handing, my credit card to the Receptionist while wearing my surgical gloves. 

She gave me an odd look as she passed me the room card and directed me to my accommodation. 

I walked along the carpeted corridor until I reached…oh no…Room 13. I took a deep breath, slid the card into the slot and went in. 

It was a standard budget room, adequate but nothing special. I was feeling hungry and as I had a couple of hours until the Convention started, called Room Service and ordered a ham sandwich and a pot of tea. 

I unpacked my bag, sorted out my toiletries and took out my book which was written by Professor Hawkins, the Presenter at the Convention. 

He was something of a hero to me, having overcome all his life’s phobias, except one, over the course of many years and now dedicated his life to helping others and I looked forward to meeting him. 

My food arrived and I popped the tray onto the desk under the TV, took the cover off the plate and my heart sank. They had included a tomato between the slices. My lycopersicoa kicked in and I had to take the handle of my toothbrush to lift it out and drop it into the waste bin. 

I poured my tea, added a sweetener and used the toothpaste handle again to stir it. There was a spoon, of course, but I have koutaliaphobia you see. 

I sat on the bed as I ate and drank and re read some of the passages from Hawkin’s book. I had suffered so long from the irrational fears which blight my life. Counselling, Psycotherapy and Hypnotherapy all failing me. 

This could be my last chance. I can’t remember now who said it but F.E.A.R, is False. Evidence. Appearing. Real.

I was nervous about being in a room with lots of people, of being touched, of being talked to, but if I was to have a chance, I would have to push these aside. 

I had just finished eating when the Desk phone rang. I answered it to hear the voice of Hawkin`s PA informing me that the Convention had been cancelled at the last minute. 

She apologised and said I would receive a full refund.

It appeared the Professor had car trouble, his SatNav had failed and he would not make it. 

I stood with the receiver in my hand, deeply disappointed. Then the penny dropped. 

Of course, his last remaining phobia had struck. 

Amaxophobia, the fear of getting lost…….