Most of the time, I enjoy change. I like experiencing new things and seeing what I may have previously missed.

But there are kinds of change I don’t like. I recently discovered one of them when I had to travel for business. I hate changing time zones.

I’m not talking about heading to Illinois for a few days and having to remember that everything is one hour off. I went to Vancouver on the west coast and had to suffer through that three-hour swing.

Yes, I said suffer because not only did my body not know what time it was, all the TV stations were different, it rained the whole time, and I couldn’t access web sites like Hulu to entertain me in my hotel room. That’s just cruel.

I arrived on a Wednesday around noon Pacific time. I had to fly out of Baltimore at 7 a.m., which meant I only slept a few hours. Sitting on planes for six hours or so didn’t yield much sleep so I was exhausted.

My conference didn’t start until the next morning, but I had some setup to do for our exhibition space. I took care of that, relaxed a little, then headed out for an early dinner. I had pretty much skipped lunch because of my flight schedule and needed something to eat.

The time change meant that the final game of the World Series started at 5 p.m. So I grabbed a sandwich and a few beers before deciding to call it a night. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. I hate Pacific time.

I went back to my room and turned on all the lights so I didn’t fall asleep early and throw myself off for the rest of the trip. I managed to make it to a little after nine, which was OK since I fall asleep that early at home sometimes.

Over the next two days, I dealt with the change pretty well. I stuck to a normal schedule on Thursday and actually stayed up pretty late on Friday. By then, I had managed to figure out how to get ESPN’s online service to supplement the TV choices in the hotel.

But don’t think I spent the whole time stuck inside. I got out to check out some of the city, but spent all day working and didn’t feel like spending too much time outside in the rain. Plus, hotel living is fun.

On the last night, however, I decided to go have some fun. I found a pub for dinner and noted other nightlife spots nearby to visit after my meal. One burger and three beers later, I wanted to lay my head down on the bar and go to sleep.

It was 5:30 p.m.

The bartender teased me. I wanted to rally, but I also wanted to go back and climb into bed. I split the difference and went back to the hotel to try and entertain myself. I think I fell asleep around 8 p.m.

I tried to make myself feel better by rationalizing that it was 11 p.m. on the east coast. But even at home I stay up past eleven on the weekend.

So I blame the time change. It’s certainly not the fact that I’m getting older. The stinking time change ruined the last night of my trip.