Hotels

I don't get out much.  That is no secret.  I like being at home.  I have a friend from work who once told me that I needed to get out and have fun every once in a while.  I responded, "What if staying home and watching TV is fun to me?"  It is.  Knitting and Netflix are where it's at.  Every so often, I do leave the house.  I know, it's rare, but it does happen. 

Back in August, I went up to Missouri to watch the eclipse with my friend Peggy.  My choices were, get up early Monday morning, drive four hours, watch the eclipse, and drive four hours back home, or book a hotel room.  I haven't stayed in a hotel in more than 20 years.  Nevertheless, I'd seen the Captain Obvious commercials, so I got on Hotels.com and made a reservation.  I'm telling you, it's so easy nowadays.  You just put in where you want to go, when you want to go there, and the site pulls up every available room in the area.  You pick the one you want, click the "Book This Room" button, enter your credit card info and you're done.  Very simple, very easy. 

I looked at several rooms in that area before finally deciding on the one I stayed in.  It was the Pear Tree Inn in Sikeston, Mo -- about a 20 minute drive from where Peggy lives.

I got up that Sunday morning, August 20th and worked a full 8 hour work day.  I came home, changed clothes, had an "I don't want to go to Missouri!  I want to stay home!" moment, then packed the car and headed to Sikeston.

Other than being caught in a blinding rainstorm just outside of Memphis, I made the 4 hour drive without incident.  Well, other than worrying the whole time that somehow my room wouldn't have been booked --despite receiving multiple confirmation e-mails that the room had indeed been reserved-- and I would get there and not have a place to stay.   I arrived at the hotel to find everything was in order, my room was ready, and the desk clerk welcomed to my home for the next two nights.

My room was on the 4th floor.  It was a very nice room.  Two beds, with lots of pillows.

The little table and chair that they all have but nobody ever seems to sit in -- except that I did.

The large dresser with drawers that nobody ever uses.  Oh, I suppose if you were going to stay for an extended period, you'd unpack and use those drawers, but I never have.

There was just one thing missing.  The mini fridge.  It wasn't there.  I looked under the sink.

I looked in the closet.  I even looked in the bathroom, though why I thought they'd put a mini fridge in the bathroom is beyond me. 

No mini fridge. 

I grumbled and groused, "My room is supposed to have a mini fridge, and I don't have one!  This will be reflected in my review!"  Then, I began to think maybe I'd gotten it wrong.  After all, I'd read the descriptions of several rooms before settling on this one.  Maybe I got them mixed up.  The presence of the ice bucket by the sink seemed to confirm my suspicions, but no, I was sure it was supposed to have a mini fridge.

Oh, well.  It's not like I was going to use it anyway.

I got up the next day, drove to Peggy's house and we watched the eclipse.  I had a great time.  I'm sure Peggy wishes I'd been a bit more sociable, but that was back when we were working 7 days a week.  I was about all sociabled out.  I did thank her for making me get off my booty and drive up there, as I'm sure without her urging, I never would have made the trip.

I went back to my hotel without incident -- other than getting off at the wrong exit, driving around a minute, not recognizing anything, saying "I don't recognize any of this", seeing a mall, and saying, "Oo, a mall!", then remembering I was supposed to get off at exit 67, not 97 and getting back on the highway -- spent a second night, and got up Tuesday to drive back home.  I made one final sweep of the room to make sure I wasn't leaving anything, then paused, leaning against the large dresser with drawers nobody uses, to read over my receipt that a hotel employee had slipped under my door during the night.

That's when I heard it.  A sound.  A familiar sound.  A sound like unto that of a refrigerator compressor kicking on.  I said to myself, "Self, that sounds like a refrigerator compressor kicking on."  Naturally, I did what any red blooded American would do.  I followed the sound, and behind the door in the dresser that looked just like drawers, there it was.  My mini fridge.  And a microwave to boot.

And the only thing I could think at that moment was, "Dang, I could have bought milk!" 

On the other hand, seeing how dusty it is behind that mini fridge, maybe I wouldn't have wanted to use it after all.