room? You know, the flooded one? Nah! They dropped us off right in front of the theatre, and I thought it was interesting that there weren’t a lot of people going in at the same time. Oh well, we’re always early. We got out of the car, went up and opened the door. Except it didn’t open. I tried again, but it still didn’t open. There were some people inside, so I knocked on the door. When someone came to the door and opened it, I asked, “Did the concert already start? “Oh, no,” the man said. “It’s over. Even the orchestra is gone.” “What!” I cried. My tickets say eight o’clock!” “No, you’re wrong,” he said. “It started at six o’clock.” I looked at my tickets, and sure enough, what I thought said eight, said six instead. So we left, got into our strategically parked car and called our son. After confessing the whole sordid affair, we went up to their house, drank some wine, and played cards instead. I did learn, however, that I should wear my reading glasses to read tickets and the like. Getting back to the hotel, we again parked in our secure parking lot and went to our room. We noticed, once we got into the room, that you could hear everything through the walls. We heard every footstep going by on the concrete walkway, everyone talking, all the doors as they squeaked open and closed, and other sounds I’ve tried to forget. By the way, those footsteps and squeaky doors I mentioned? That went on all night. Tap, tap, tap, squeak, mumble, mumble, squeak, tap, tap,
The bathroom was one of those that you can either close the door or be in it, but not do both at the same time. tap. Between that and my coughing, not a whole lot of sleeping was happening. In the morning we went down to the lobby for breakfast, but the clerk told us, “Breakfast? No, we don’t serve breakfast. No one stays long enough for breakfast. Everyone has gone home by now, except for the ones who live here . . .” Okay, that part never happened. We think we figured out why our room was more expensive than we paid for much nicer places. Apparently, everyone else was paying by the hour . . . so multiplying the hourly cost by a whole night . . . the clerk must’ve thought I was first class! Didn’t he get a look at me? As for the secure parking – now I can’t say for sure, but I suspect there are hotel customers who are not only regulars, but also, might even live there. It all made a good story, though, and only the name of the hotel has changed to protect the guilty.
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February 2014
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