Anniversary II: Curse of The Village People
Jul/25/07 07:54 PM Filed in: THIS IS OUR
LIFE
Our
2nd anniversary was filled with the most
ridiculousness yet. John had been working 5 part time
jobs and my job didn't pay that well so money was
super tight. It was that awkward week toward the end
of the month where every penny had to stretch to make
it to the next paycheck. We had resigned that we
wouldn't be able to get away and would just try to go
out for a nice dinner. Then SURPRISE I got a nice
bonus from my employer and we decided to head to San
Diego for the weekend at the last minute. I ran home
and found a great little hotel on one of those cheap
hotel sites with a description that said it was
"European Style" city accommodations which I knew
would mean small in size and amenities, but the
pictures looked great and it was only a few blocks
from the water. So I booked a room and we packed up
our things to head down.
When we arrived on West St and began watching the numbers. 494, 496, 498, 500. As we drove alongside the hotel we saw banners hanging that listed its different features. "Cafe" "Pool" "Hotel" "YMCA" YMCA?? That's weird. There must be a YMCA in the same building. Odd, but oh well. The lobby was nice enough and the workers were helpful so we checked in and rode up to our floor in the 2nd scariest elevator I've ever been in (1st scariest was in Russia). We stepped out onto our floor, thankful to have made it and noticed that the hall looked oddly like a dorm. We passed a few doors that had signs for toilets and showers and finally found our room and opened the door. Do you know that scene in Christmas Vacation where the family is hiking through the snowy forest to find the perfect Christmas tree? You know how when they finally find it a light shone forth from on high while a choir sang to herald the find? It was nothing like that. It was more like when Eeyore is sitting on a cliff, having discovered one more reason to feel sorry for himself and a dark gray storm cloud appears overhead, pouring rain on him. The room was smaller than a dorm room. It had a tiny twin bed, a table with a tiny tv and a tiny wardrobe. Notice I did not say anything about a tiny bathroom? The bathrooms were in the hall and we would be sharing them with the backpackers and students who had to take bathroom breaks between writing poems and playing guitar. Our quaint European style hotel was actually a YMCA youth hostel. Oh and did I mention that the carpet was soggy? John, immediately seeing the humor, began chuckling and enjoying the irony of the moment. While I stood, shocked and bugged. We wanted to move to a different hotel, but there was cancellation policy and we would have had to pay for the room anyway.
Deciding to make the best of it, we headed out to enjoy the town. After a lovely walk on the water front we made our way over to a great restaurant right on the water and sat down for what we had heard would be a great dinner. The food was amazing. The service was terrible. Our waitress did not wait on us at all. She introduced herself and then didn't come to our table again until she brought the check. Someone else took our drink order, our food order, brought our food and desserts. Since tips stands for To Insure Proper Service and our service was anything but proper, we marked a big fat $0.00 on the tip line. The next stop was a handsome cab ride and on the way John just happened to call up the bank and discover that the waitress had given herself a $20 tip!! Unbelievable! I'm sure she assumed we wouldn't notice. We called up the restaurant manager and explained that the "waitress" had not served us at all and we were pretty disappointed with the experience and then that there was and extra $20 charge on our card. She tried to tell us that sometimes banks charge extra money to make sure the money is there. Uh. I don't think so. Eventually she agreed to refund the $20 and send us a gift certificate by email. Thanks, lady.
After a very uncomfortable night's sleep on the tiny bed we spent a redeeming day at Sea World which is one of my favorite places (I love manatees), and were very thankful to get back home.
When we arrived on West St and began watching the numbers. 494, 496, 498, 500. As we drove alongside the hotel we saw banners hanging that listed its different features. "Cafe" "Pool" "Hotel" "YMCA" YMCA?? That's weird. There must be a YMCA in the same building. Odd, but oh well. The lobby was nice enough and the workers were helpful so we checked in and rode up to our floor in the 2nd scariest elevator I've ever been in (1st scariest was in Russia). We stepped out onto our floor, thankful to have made it and noticed that the hall looked oddly like a dorm. We passed a few doors that had signs for toilets and showers and finally found our room and opened the door. Do you know that scene in Christmas Vacation where the family is hiking through the snowy forest to find the perfect Christmas tree? You know how when they finally find it a light shone forth from on high while a choir sang to herald the find? It was nothing like that. It was more like when Eeyore is sitting on a cliff, having discovered one more reason to feel sorry for himself and a dark gray storm cloud appears overhead, pouring rain on him. The room was smaller than a dorm room. It had a tiny twin bed, a table with a tiny tv and a tiny wardrobe. Notice I did not say anything about a tiny bathroom? The bathrooms were in the hall and we would be sharing them with the backpackers and students who had to take bathroom breaks between writing poems and playing guitar. Our quaint European style hotel was actually a YMCA youth hostel. Oh and did I mention that the carpet was soggy? John, immediately seeing the humor, began chuckling and enjoying the irony of the moment. While I stood, shocked and bugged. We wanted to move to a different hotel, but there was cancellation policy and we would have had to pay for the room anyway.
Deciding to make the best of it, we headed out to enjoy the town. After a lovely walk on the water front we made our way over to a great restaurant right on the water and sat down for what we had heard would be a great dinner. The food was amazing. The service was terrible. Our waitress did not wait on us at all. She introduced herself and then didn't come to our table again until she brought the check. Someone else took our drink order, our food order, brought our food and desserts. Since tips stands for To Insure Proper Service and our service was anything but proper, we marked a big fat $0.00 on the tip line. The next stop was a handsome cab ride and on the way John just happened to call up the bank and discover that the waitress had given herself a $20 tip!! Unbelievable! I'm sure she assumed we wouldn't notice. We called up the restaurant manager and explained that the "waitress" had not served us at all and we were pretty disappointed with the experience and then that there was and extra $20 charge on our card. She tried to tell us that sometimes banks charge extra money to make sure the money is there. Uh. I don't think so. Eventually she agreed to refund the $20 and send us a gift certificate by email. Thanks, lady.
After a very uncomfortable night's sleep on the tiny bed we spent a redeeming day at Sea World which is one of my favorite places (I love manatees), and were very thankful to get back home.
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