But, let's start at the beginning. It's a very fine place to start. My wife and I came up yesterday to visit her grandmother and step-grandfather. I like them both. On the trip up, we tried some of the tricks we'd heard on the radio about negotiating for the best hotel rates. We failed miserably, so I decided to try Priceline. I'd tried it in the past, but my offers were always rejected. My brother brags about the great deals he gets, so I figured I'd give it another shot.
My first offer for a 2-and-a-half star place got rejected. So, I dropped down to two stars. Immediately, I got back a response. We had been accepted. My wife and I joined hands and danced around her grandmother's kitchen. "Two whole stars," we shouted in unison.
I should have known that something must be amiss. I mean, why would the fine folks at Quality Inn accept my $3.79 a night offer? Anyway, we drove over to the hotel. I checked in. The place wasn't the Taj Mahal. It wasn't even the Oddfellows Hall, but it looked okay.
As soon as we walked into our cozy, little, closet-like room, the smell of tobacco gently wafted up into our lungs. After a few seconds of subdued gagging, I called the front desk. "This must be a smoking room," I said, kindly enough.
"Yes," the not so very concerned front desk guy replied.
"Do you have a non-smoking room?" I asked in my nicest nice-guy voice.
"Yes, but because you came through Priceline I can't let you have it," the guy says, relishing the opportunity to tell me that. "I'd have to charge you again and you'd get no refund on your first room." He was in his element now.
"That's the most asinine thing I've ever heard," I said, my voice dripping with kindness. "How about that sign in the lobby that says that if something doesn't meet my satisfaction, you'll correct it?" I thought my comment was very well thought out.
"Yeah, but you came through Priceline," he said, as if that pretty much answered my well thought out question perfectly. Evidently Priceline customers are second class citizens in the hotel world.
"This is absurd," I say.
"Here, give me the phone," my wife says. She's made a career of apologizing for me.
"Help yourself," I say lovingly to her, handing her the phone.
Well, to expedite this thing, I'll just say that she was able to get the guy to extend to us a degree of courtesy not known in the Western World. He gave us another room and promised he wouldn't charge us.
We moved next door. The room smelled great. We brought all our luggage in, turned the hi-tech little wall air/heat unit on, and proceeded to get ready for bed. After noticing that the rather chilly room wasn't warming up, I checked the heater. It wasn't heating up either. It was blowing cold air.
My wife called the office. This time the caring clerk was also clever. He didn't answer. So, we just turned the heater off and slept in the cold room. Needless to say, we both survived the night.
This morning I spoke with the hotel manager. She was very kind and understanding and agreed to comp our room for last night, but, she said, we'd have to call Priceline to get them to initiate the credit to our card.
So we called Priceline. That's when the real fun began. I will tell you more about that tomorrow. I'm tired and going to bed...not in the same room as I woke up in, but I'll save that story for tomorrow as well. Who knows? I may even have more to tell. The night is young.
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