Mike Buzzelli is a stand-up comedian and published author. His book, "Below Average Genius" is a collection of essays culled from his weekly humor column here in the Observer-Reporter.

Recently, I celebrated my niece’s wedding. I ate way too many cookies from the cookie table (a tradition), and bumped into way too many people doing the slide dances, both Electric and Cha Cha. They’d go right, I’d go left. They zigged, I zagged. I’m not so good at line dances.

The wedding was a blast, but, at midnight, I couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel room, kick off my shoes and relax.

Even though it was a local wedding, we got a block of rooms at a hotel next to the venue, Soldiers and Sailors Hall in Oakland. My brother and his wife got a room, and a bunch of friends and relatives chose some rooms. It was an epic celebration and we wanted to extend the fun as long as possible.

Before the wedding, I checked into room 726, changed into my suit and went to the festivities.

After the wedding, I stood out in front of room 726. My nephew was with me when I tried to get back into it. I swiped the card. Nothing. I swiped it a few more times. Nothing.

After I swiped the card over fifteen times and didn’t gain entry, my nephew says, “I think you have the wrong room.”

I did not. I told him, “I make it a point to memorize my hotel room number.”

My nephew texted his dad (my brother) and asked, “What room number are you in?”

My brother was at the hotel bar, but his wife was asleep in room – get this – 726.

They gave my brother MY room.

Apparently the hotel couldn’t handle more than one Buzzelli on the premises. To be fair, most people can’t handle more than one Buzzelli.

I met my brother in the lobby and we straightened it out. I was given a new room on the third floor, since my sister-in-law was already sleeping in 726. Then, we went up to retrieve my bag from what was now my brother’s room.

When I went back to fetch my bag, my brother said, “I came in and Vicki (his wife) said, ‘Someone’s stuff is in here.’ It’s a good thing you called. We could’ve had it removed.”

It was mostly gym clothes and a pair of tennis shoes, but – still – it was my stuff!

In the morning, I got up, showered and dressed. I was meeting a contingent of family members for breakfast at the hotel restaurant, but I thought I’d throw my stuff in my car first.

My keys! I left them on the dresser. In room 726.

I texted my brother Rick again and made arrangements to grab my keys.

Then, I went back down to three, and – don’t tell my nephew this part – I forgot my room number.

I can hold one room number in my head and 726 was all my brain could muster. I walked over to 308 and took a chance.

I swiped the card and it worked. Mission accomplished.

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