It's Not the Disaster - It's The Recovery

When I think about Galaxy, I see more than coils of yarn. I see the way gratitude glows brightest after the lights go out. This piece was born from nights and days when everything could have failed at once, and the only way through was together. This story is about one of those nights.

Why this Matters

In hospitality and in life, we don’t get to choose when the lights go out. We do get to choose how we show up for one another in the dark. Galaxy is my reminder that recovery is a team sport – built from many small, steady acts of service that coil together into something stronger than any single “disaster story.”

Every Hotelier Has a Disaster Story

This is my favorite disaster‑recovery Yarns About Life. It’s about the people who spent a cold and dark midnight shift with me, making sure the hotel was ready to face the next day.

To set the stage: it was early January 2017 at the Dallas Sheraton. I was working my seventh day in a row as an important repeat group, in the last year of their contract, was in house. We wanted them to sign for additional years. As the hotel manager, I was there to underscore how much their business and their meeting planner’s satisfaction mattered.

By late Sunday afternoon, the meetings had wrapped up and 1,050 group rooms had departed. By 6:00 p.m., we had delivered on our promise of a successful meeting. The team had performed beyond expectations. I went home, put on my sweatpants, took off my makeup, poured a glass of wine, and settled in for some long‑awaited down time.

The Power of Recovery

The call came after 9:00 p.m. We’d had a bus duct blow‑out. (A bus duct is a modular electrical power distribution system designed to safely and efficiently transmit large electrical currents.)

Later, we learned what happened. There was a hairline crack in the concrete on the lowest floor of the garage, right above this electrical equipment. A pickup truck had parked in that exact space and dumped a cooler of water and ice right over the crack. The water slowly filtered through and onto the bus duct.

What were the chances of such a random occurrence?

Even in the middle of the mess, I looked for the bright side:

• No one was hurt.

• There was no fire.

• Over 1,000 departures had already been completed; we were at 37% occupancy.

• The outage was contained to one of our three towers – 600 rooms in the central tower.

• We could manage the next day’s arrivals using rooms in the other two towers.

Since I lived less than two miles from the hotel, it made sense for me to come back and get us through the next 12 hours. The General Manager and Director of Facilities would arrive at 6:00 a.m. to put longer‑term steps in place, including renting and installing a semi‑truck‑sized portable generator. The hotel would not have to close.

When I arrived, I first addressed the concerns of the meeting planner whose group would be arriving the next day. Then we began identifying and moving any guests still in the central tower. Thankfully, there were very few moves to make.

The next challenge was housekeeping. How would we operate the next day without several critical elevator banks – the main arteries for supplies, associates, and housekeeping carts for 1,200 rooms?

A Mighty Crew of Six

At midnight, I called Patrick, the hourly housekeeping supervisor. He had already gone home after his shift, but he cheerfully returned.

We both knew: if the stocked housekeeping carts weren’t in place on the North and Central tower floors by 8:00 a.m., chaos and late starts would create huge bottlenecks for the arriving group guests. Our mission was clear: deliver the right number of carts to 50 floors so housekeeping could start smoothly.

Five hourly associates who were still on property – from the front desk, security, housekeeping, and the third‑party night cleaners – were recruited. Our crew: five hourly associates and one hotel manager.

We met in the back office and built a plan to stock and move the necessary carts to the North and Central towers using the South tower elevators, the only tower with direct access to the cart staging area. Everyone had an equal voice. All suggestions were welcome. It was a small but mighty crew.

We rode the South tower elevators down to the sublevel cart storage room. Two of us focused on fully stocking the carts. As each cart was ready, the remaining teams of two transported them to the floors. Once all carts were stocked, the last team of two joined the transport rotation.

We mapped out the most practical route: pushing “trains” of carts from the South tower, through the public spaces on the mezzanine level, to the North tower elevators, and then up to the floors. From there, we used the connector corridors between the central and north towers to deliver carts where they were needed.

Mission accomplished

It was a journey. I was awake for 27 hours, but I was exhilarated. Working side by side with these associates, making a plan together, and seeing it through reminded me:

Disasters will happen. What people remember – and what shapes who we become – is how we recover, together.

When I look at Galaxy now, I see that long, dark night coiled into color – the fear, the problem‑solving, and the quiet courage of a small crew who chose to recover together. Each loop of yarn is a thank‑you to the people who show up when the power goes out, the ones who turn chaos into calm. My hope is that, as you spend time with this piece, you’ll remember your own galaxy of support and the recoveries that shaped you.

Every leader has a recovery story; if this one sparks yours, you’re invited to share it and add your light to this galaxy of support.