My husband works in Melbourne nearly every second week. We often plan ahead when he has a few back to back trips around busy times and try to sneak the weekend in for adventuring. On this particular weekend I didn’t want to leave our son for two whole nights so I waited until first thing on Saturday to fly out after dropping my son at my in-laws. My husband had stayed in Melbourne and I was basically joining him for two days and one night.
Sydney has flight restrictions to minimise the noise for residents (yes, it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard too) and as such you can’t fly out until the curfew is lifted each day at 6.00am. By the time I flew to Melbourne and landed, got in a taxi and travelled to the city it must have been close to 8.00am.
I arrive at reception and state I was checking into Mr Timmins room. The receptionist welcomes me and proceeds to program a key for me. I get the key and follow his directions to the lift. Key doesn’t activate the lift so I head back to reception to get another key and to confirm I am doing the right thing. The receptionist gives me another key and I head off to the lifts. Doesn’t work again. I repeat the march to reception and ask for another key. This time he is looking at me like I am completely hopeless. It’s fine. I’m blonde, people do that.
So I now have my third key and I set off for his room. I don’t knock. I just march in, and at the top of my voice I state I’m here. I left my bag in the kitchen and assess the lounge area. There are clothes everywhere! I am about to take flight onto the naked but on the king sized bed when something stops me. They are not my husband’s shoes. Those are not his pants. That is not his butt! Whose room is this? I exit, quietly, completely surprised that this random hasn’t already woken up and head back to reception.
As I am approaching reception I am sure the receptionist didn’t mean to roll his eyes, maybe I imagined it, but I am sure there was eye rolling. “Can I help you?” Ah, yes you can. You could give me the key to my husband’s room. Oh.. there are two Mr Timmins. No, not a common name but surely the list of guests comes up alphabetically and you could see that when you first gave me the key? Did you not think to ask me for his first name?
Oh geez…. Stuff that happens to me.