The Queen and the Pea

Okay. I know that the fairytale is The Princess and the Pea, but since my mum is a crone and very much The Queen of her extended brood, I felt the title more appropos.

Today I went shopping with mum for a hotel room. I have family coming in to visit in a month and they have special requirements: king size bed, mini-fridge, microwave, coffeemaker, continental breakfast, large and spacious, and not too expensive.

I think it’s doable. And then the rest of the family drops the anvil on my head. My sister who lives here demands that the hotel be close to her. My cousins want the hotel close to them. I would love to spend some time with the visiting family too and the problem? None of us live within 10 miles of each other.

The solution? Grab a map and see where the midpoint is and reserve a room there.

Too bad the midpoint is in the middle of a freeway. A freeway with no hotels on either side of it until you get to my end of town, and then it is a veritable bonanza of hotels, but all of them expensive.

Oh, and the bed has to be just right. Not too soft and not too firm. How can I find that out by calling, I ask? Oh no, we have to go look at all the rooms and bounce and lay on the beds says my mother.

So today, for 7.25 hours, I drove all over the county with my elderly mother and her walker, going from hotel to hotel, searching for just the right room.

I bounced, she bounced, I rolled, she kicked, I stretched out, she inspected the bathrooms, I tested air conditioning. Then we took notes, thanked the hotel staff and left…only to drive to the next hotel and begin the process all over again…for 7.25 hours.

The Queen gave her blessing only once. Sadly, that room was in a hotel undergoing remodeling and the smell of the wallpaper paste and the carpet glue stank so bad, I thought I saw Elvis (the real one) on the elevator…

At one hotel, the manager asked how long our guests would be staying and when we told him one week, he looked at me like I was crazy. All this effort, showing us around, answering all of my mum’s bizarre questions and listening politely to her often tedious and convoluted stories about how she likes Uno but not gin rummy, but that Mildred on the third floor told her how the chicken was undercooked, but it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t play poker with a chicken…well, you get the idea, the manager was a little short with us after all that.

Personally, I always loved the movie Airplane, because I could so relate to that man committing hari kari after listening to Robert Hays.

So tonight the duty falls to me to contact said family members and give them the news that they will have to pitch a tent on the freeway to make my sister and cousins happy, but to make me happy they will have to pay over $130 a night, but will have incredible service, and a free wet bar.

Of course, as mum would say…you really shouldn’t drink and drive so the tent with the free bar should be fine.