Yes. It has been one of those days. Allow me to elucidate.
This morning, my Mom makes a cameo appearance here at Rancho Yesteryear with a 12 pack of Pepsi One and some fried chicken she scored at Publix (eight mixed pieces for $3.99; a deal you can’t even to begin to beat with a stick). She had called the day before to let me know she’d be by and asked if she could run the prizes in TDOY’s Nick Carter, Master Detective giveaway by the post office for me. (Note to the winners: mission accomplished…the sets are on their way.) I accepted this generous offer—she was going right by the USPS on her grocery run—but I thought she was going to come by my place first before getting groceries. (I had a couple of additional items on my list. But no biggie.) While she was here, she notifies me that my father will be by later…he wants me to book a hotel room for our family reunion trip in June.
I don’t remember when Dad arrived at Castle Yesteryear…but I do know that when he left, it was three months later. This is no reflection on him, but rather a manifestation of one of the Big Lies in the hotel bidness, perpetrated by celebrity spokesman William Shatner and that big pimp guy with the tattooed hands that makes him look like Robert Mitchum in The Night of the Hunter (1955). Shat would have you believe that there are cheap hotel rooms just for the taking at Priceline, and all you have to do is “name your own price.” What a load of old cobblers.
First off, my mother is—well, I don’t want to say she’s “picky” because I want to stay in the will…let’s just call it “particular” about where she stays when she’s traveling. Of course, I made certain my father was aware of this, though if memory serves me correct he sort of scoffed at her “particularness,” grumbling: “She’s not on the corporate dime anymore.” (This is true; she retired when she turned sixty [mumble].) The city closest to the family reunion had a Hampton Inn, which is Mater’s preferred brand of hotel chain…but everywhere I went—Priceline, Expedia, Travelocity, Hotels.com, Orbitz—the rates for a Hampton stay were the same. (And with all apologies to Mr. Shatner, the rates were not the price we wanted to name—although we did think of a few choice names…but this is a family blog.) And when my father resigned himself to the fact that no matter where we booked the room we would pay the same rate at the Hampton—we even checked the rate at Hampton Inn.com, foregoing the Priceline/Travelocity, etc. discounts…and it was the same freakin’ rate!—we tried to book a room with two queen beds…and kept getting told there were none available. He called the hotel to find out what’s the dealio and the lady told him they were booked tighter than a tick because someone was getting married that weekend.
So, we had to fall back on Plan B…staying at a hotel that was probably not going to pass muster with Mumsy. The only problem with this (apart from her being unhappy) was we couldn’t find a hotel that had rooms with two queen beds. We even tried hotels fifty miles away from where we had to be…no soap. So Dad reasoned—and I kind of have to hand it to him, he’s pretty sharp for an old codger—that with what we were going to pay to stay at the
So Dad and I finally find a hotel that has two rooms—both with queen beds—in the vicinity of the reunion site, and once again I try to book them through GetaRoom.com. And once again, I go through the long, painful reservation process…only to be told that the rooms I’m booking are sold out. So I calmly picked up the phone and dialed GetaRoom direct, spoke with a customer service agent who was most accommodating and booked two rooms for the dates of the reunion with absotively, posilutely no fuss.
Yeah, right…in the Bizarro World! I was on the phone for what seemed like an eternity trying to get the lady on the other end to understand my reservation instructions…and this wasn’t easy because a) English was her second language, and b) my voice is still not back to normal strength. (If anyone’s talked to me on the phone they know that I sound like Mr. Moose from the old Captain Kangaroo show.) When I finally completed the transaction I was wishing that not only had we been able to book rooms in the hotel with the bar, but that I was there throwing back a few.
I still haven’t found the time to look at Breaker! Breaker! (1977)—when is this blogathon due, anyway? The 30th? Oh, well…I’ve still got plenty of chances to get it in. Though if I don’t, I have a sneaking suspicion that my inability to sit through this movie a second time will become a running theme here on the blog, replacing the missing-in-action Serial Saturdays presentation of Jungle Queen (1945).