My niece and I were tired on the road and wanted to spend the night somewhere so we would not have to rush to get home the next day and could make a few fun stops. With the wonders of internet on phones, we found a motel that looked pretty good and had a brand name connected, kind of like Little Stay Here by Big Chain Company.
I’m really not picky. I’ve slept everywhere from on the ground in a lean-to tent to a fancy hotel with a glass elevator.
I made the reservation through the Big Chain Company 800 number and was promised an email confirmation number immediately.
The email never came through. The guess is that the email address was off by a letter or two. Or three. Earlier in the call my J-e-r-i had been interpreted by the call center as G-e-r-r-i. I’m used to it, but it’s worse in other countries. Shire, rhymes with fire is Shier in Germany, but when I spell it out correctly the phonetics are pronounced Sheerah. In Venezuela I was known as Yerri. Whatever. I’ve been called worse by angry students.
Anyway, despite not having an email confirmation, the motel did have S-h-i-r-e in the system and we checked in. Evidently, there were no rooms available on the second floor.
“Well, I don’t want a room that opens to the street,” I told the nice young man at the counter, “There’s not a street here,” he answered, politely and sincerely. Part of my brain wanted to ask, “Then how did I get here?” The other part knew he quite literally meant that it did not directly open to the street, but right to the parking places. The “street” was out front.
He did give us room opened to the inside, but only gave us one key card. We didn’t particularly need two cards. It just seemed odd.
Remodeling was a reason there was no breakfast offered; we knew that ahead of time and it was fine. We did wonder if it was really because of staffing and people were still using Covid as an excuse.
The place wasn’t fancy, but had an architectural ’60’s vibe with brick flowerbeds on the inside. In the courtyard, there was a place for a fountain and a pool, but no water was flowing in either. OK, they were remodeling. And we weren’t there to throw coins in a fountain or to swim. Besides, when you book a half hour ahead of check-in you’ve already lost your cancellation privileges.
The room itself was clean. I checked the bed and sniffed the towels. It looked like there was only one washcloth until we saw a second one folded cute with the bath mat.
There wasn’t a coffee maker, but the mini-fridge was cold and the microwave worked.
There was an ironing board, but no iron, although there was a holder on the wall for one. (My niece made sure to let them know we didn’t take it.)
The hardwired hairdryer worked.
However, the toilet seat wasn’t hardwired on. It had about a two inch sway both ways, and the little wing nut to tighten it was missing.
I prepped for a shower while my niece settled in to find us a good true crime something to watch. The water got hot quickly in the shower. It must have been hot enough to loosen the sealant because when I pushed the diverter back down the whole faucet wobbled. Then the handle section wobbled. I didn’t notice that when I started.
I hoped the sealant wasn’t weak enough to cause one of the quartz slabs in the shower to fall on me before I got dried off.
I came out and my niece said, “Either the remote or the TV doesn’t work.”
Oh, well, we had our phones and tablets for entertainment.
“And,” she continued, “when I tried to call the front desk the phone didn’t work.”
Ugh. Don’t trust hotel website pictures. Ever.
