Drama of the Day

We decided to stop in Lexington because they have a five-star Indian restaurant. Who could resist? But once again, Mark had to book the room because I was driving. He booked it for September 9th instead of last night. How does he do it? Poorly designed websites, bumps in the road, nothing much to do with him it seems. But once again he had to call customer service to get the reservation changed. He repeated his sad tale no fewer than three times. I wasn't sure if he was dealing with someone who didn't speak English or was hard of hearing. Turns out they just kept passing him on to someone else until he got to a person who was willing to step up and help him out.

We arrived in Lexington around 3 PM. Mark had booked a downtown hotel so we'd be close to the downtown shops and restaurants. As it turns out, this particular property was no where close to downtown. That was fine. It looked lovely. But then the real drama started.

I sort of expected someone to come out and give us a hand with the bags. But perhaps they didn't know we had arrived. I decided to go inside and commandeer a baggage trolley. Meanwhile, Mark was taking our bags out of the car. I had my hand on the trolley when the young lady at the desk asked if I was checking in. "Yes, I am." We went through the entire registration process very quickly and she told me that our room was on the ground floor - "just over there". "You don't need the trolley. You can park over there and just take the bags in. Entrance A. Just over there."

When I went back outside without a trolley and told Mark it was "just over there - Entrance A" he decided that reloading the bags into the car would be too much trouble. He thought he could just walk the bags over there. (The bags consisted of a large roller, a small computer roller, a small back pack (for meds) and a medium-sized overnight bag for shoes and toiletries.) He set off on foot and I set off in the car.

I passed Entrance 1 and turned the corner. Entrance 2. I am suspicious. Where is Entrance A? By the time we got to Entrance 3 I stopped the car and told Mark that I don't think there is an A. But we pressed on - me in the car and Mark on foot with the bags. When I got back around to the front I went in and informed the front desk staff that I had circumnavigated the building and did not see Entrance A. Several of them looked confused, but the young lady who had checked me in said "Entrance 1 - I said One". Whatever! I heard A. I know I am getting old but my hearing is still pretty good. I parked the car outside Entrance 1 and set off to help Mark with the bags. By this time, Mark had also circumnavigated the building, still lugging the bags. Now we know why it's called "luggage". When I said it was Entrance 1, not A he threw the bags down and stormed inside. Let me say that in the not quite 15 years that I've known Mark, this is about the third time I've seen him angry. He does not curse at people, nor does he shout at them, but he leaves them with no doubt that he is angry. It's rare, but it's effective. People were summoned from the inner depths of the hotel to help us with the bags. Two different managers knocked on our door to apologize for the lack of service. Free things were coming our way. We were driven downtown to the concert in the park.

Later that evening as we were having dinner in the hotel dining room I went to the ladies room and somehow managed to leave my handbag hanging on the hook there. It was rescued and returned to me by the same young lady who had misguided me earlier and who probably got chewed out over the incident. Although in fairness, I think the reprimand probably had more to do with the failure to offer assistance with the bags than with the misguidance.

Anyway, I'm sure she thought that I'm not only old and hard of hearing but that I'm half senile, too. Can't go to the loo without losing my bag. Oh well, I just can't get too worked up about what people I will probably not see again think.

By the way, we never found that Indian restaurant.