You've GOT to be kidding me.
Sep. 7th, 2006 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pen_gruntI'd be more irritated right now if I weren't chuckling from sheer amusement. My hotel (I'm convinced) was built in the grand tradition of Murphy's Law (what can go wrong probably will).
You see, I'm in Miami right now. For anyone who has been to Miami, you know that the bad places in Miami are REALLY bad, and the good places are...well...corrupt as all get-out. I'm staying at the local Best Western (typically a moderate-yet-nice hotel). For some reason, it smells strongly of dead fish.
I walk into my room.
First thing I do is turn on the light. Huh, fluorescent bulbs are flickery--it gives it that cool, "I could be killed in this hotel tonight" atmosphere.
I walk into my bathroom. I check the toiletries (because I realize too late that I forgot my conditioner at home). The complimentary hospitality kit is not only open, but is also completely empty.
I decide to use the bathroom. Not only will the toilet seat lid not stay up, but it's wet from an over-enthusiastic flushing. The toilet paper is out, so I use a Kleenex (after taking out the first wad, which appears to be shoved back in the box used).
The room is freezing, so I turn up the heat. It apparently makes a really high pitched squeal when heating the room.
I go to my bed, which has a mattress shaped roughly like a hard-shell taco. I then notice that my bedside light is missing all manner of switches/buttons/knobs. No, they're supposed to be there, I can see the screw end where they're supposed to be. The light doesn't go on.
All the "room art" is missing--but the hooks above the beds are still there. Curious.
I decide to take a look out the window. I find myself with a beautiful view of a palm tree. Well, it's not so much a view as a palm frond mashed up against my window obscuring all manner of view and light.
I decide to take a shower to freshen up. There's no drain, only a spooky black hole where shampoo goes to die.
Eh. A hotel's a hotel. Now if my TV would just play a program in English I might be able to make a night of it. Screw it, I'm giving up and reading Plague Dogs.
My next-week-or-so schedule: Drive to Orlando tomorrow. Spend Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday in Orlando in meetings. Fly to Las Vegas on Tuesday night, give a presentation on Wednesday morning at 8:30 a.m. Fly back to Minneapolis in the afternoon.
You see, I'm in Miami right now. For anyone who has been to Miami, you know that the bad places in Miami are REALLY bad, and the good places are...well...corrupt as all get-out. I'm staying at the local Best Western (typically a moderate-yet-nice hotel). For some reason, it smells strongly of dead fish.
I walk into my room.
First thing I do is turn on the light. Huh, fluorescent bulbs are flickery--it gives it that cool, "I could be killed in this hotel tonight" atmosphere.
I walk into my bathroom. I check the toiletries (because I realize too late that I forgot my conditioner at home). The complimentary hospitality kit is not only open, but is also completely empty.
I decide to use the bathroom. Not only will the toilet seat lid not stay up, but it's wet from an over-enthusiastic flushing. The toilet paper is out, so I use a Kleenex (after taking out the first wad, which appears to be shoved back in the box used).
The room is freezing, so I turn up the heat. It apparently makes a really high pitched squeal when heating the room.
I go to my bed, which has a mattress shaped roughly like a hard-shell taco. I then notice that my bedside light is missing all manner of switches/buttons/knobs. No, they're supposed to be there, I can see the screw end where they're supposed to be. The light doesn't go on.
All the "room art" is missing--but the hooks above the beds are still there. Curious.
I decide to take a look out the window. I find myself with a beautiful view of a palm tree. Well, it's not so much a view as a palm frond mashed up against my window obscuring all manner of view and light.
I decide to take a shower to freshen up. There's no drain, only a spooky black hole where shampoo goes to die.
Eh. A hotel's a hotel. Now if my TV would just play a program in English I might be able to make a night of it. Screw it, I'm giving up and reading Plague Dogs.
My next-week-or-so schedule: Drive to Orlando tomorrow. Spend Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday in Orlando in meetings. Fly to Las Vegas on Tuesday night, give a presentation on Wednesday morning at 8:30 a.m. Fly back to Minneapolis in the afternoon.
