My sister and I have a story, but it’s about being turned away from someplace where we had a reservation. Their parking lot was not full, but we were told they had no rooms. Sis was exhausted from extensive driving and just about ready to blow a gasket, so I suggested she wait to one side while I talked to the man sweetly about calling around to find another place for us.
While waiting, we asked to use the restroom and were turned down. Two happy young couples came in, dressed up for an evening out, and were accommodated immediately. Seriously.
Hm. To my mind we looked like two respectable middle aged ladies dressed for travel: slacks or jeans, blouses, walking shoes, clean and neat, no biker tatts or anything off-putting. Most people look at us and can tell we are sisters, though Sis is 8” taller than I am.
Finally the proprietor gave me an address. When we were back in the car and heading down the pitch black highway, I asked what the hell just happened there? She said through gritted teeth: “He thought we were lesbians.” Shocked the shit out of me, but Sis is bi- so her youthful experiences were somewhat different than mine.
But the night was not yet over.
Far down the road it was obvious we’d passed the address we were given, so we turned into an industrial park, got lost in there, made it back to the highway.
Finally saw the hotel sign. Dark, broken. But at the end of a huge parking lot there was a building with lights on in the entry and cars clustered just there. We pulled in to the parking lot, slowly. It was dark, empty. We stopped not far from the road and watched, with the engine running: almost the only lights on were at the front door, people coming and going from their cars. After awhile I said: “Do you want to go up there?” “Oh HELL no,” said she and took off.
We had just enough energy left to briefly laugh like crazy and make up stories about what kind of business they were doing at that Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Place.
We stopped at the first gas station/convenience store we saw and parked in the brightly lit parking lot by the brightly lit store. From there, Sis called Trip Advisor and explained the situation, so she could make sure to stop payment to the hotel we were refused at. I took the phone at some point to tell the story of the Very Bad Place we were told to go to by that asshole, and the woman on the other end of the line was suitably appalled. She told us to sit tight, that she was going to find us a place to stay — and after quite awhile, she did.
It was probably 2:00 a.m. by the time we got there, and the proprietress was sweet and kind. The room was clean and comfy. Sis walked into the bedroom, shut the door, and crashed. I unfolded the couch, found the extra bedding, and did likewise.
We were okay. Someone had actively wished us ill — but we were okay.
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