Oh, for a Place to Lay Your Head
Ah, the frustrations of travel.
My hubby does not function well without a full night’s sleep. When traveling he pins together errant hotel curtains, wears an eye mask, and scrunches a towel against the door jam to block noise.
Traveling without me, Hubby flew to Boston and reserved a hotel to ensure a good night’s rest before tackling the drive north to Maine.
After some unfortunate flight delays, he arrived at 3:00 a.m. and asked for his room. Though the lobby was empty, the clerk was new and not sure how to register a guest. But finally, paperwork in hand, Hubby lugged his suitcase upstairs and located his room.
Unfortunately, the key didn’t work. He jiggled, he tugged, he pulled. Still didn’t work.
No way around it, he had to return to the front desk. The clerk gave him a new key.
Another trip upstairs.
This key didn’t work either.
This time the clerk accompanied him explaining, “The doors can be tricky to open.” And wouldn’t you know it, the clerk inserted the key, and voila’, success!
“Hey, what’s going on?” a man’s voice yelled from deep within the room.
Oops. They quickly closed the door.
Now at this point in the story I ask incredulous, “You didn’t assure the poor guy that it was a mistake, that it was hotel management that opened the door, that everything was fine?”
“You just left the guy trembling in fear all night?”
Apparently so. Well, good grief. If someone had walked in on me like that I’d have totally freaked out.
It took the hotel 45 minutes to get Hubby re-settled, his plans to be rested for the coming day completely shot.
The next morning he complained and asked for compensation.
“Don’t worry. We won’t charge you for the room,” the front desk clerk assured him.
She grinned and winked. “We also waived charges for another guest who lost sleep last night.”