St. Bob and I recently went to Salt Lake City to enjoy the General Conference of the LDS Church. That part went great. We also met up with dear friends and relatives. That part also went great. (You know what’s coming.)
But we stayed in a terrible hotel. Unfortunately, we invited some friends to stay there as well, and their experience was equally dreadful. We felt responsible because we were responsible.
It’s fun to watch St. Bob’s irritation grow with each blunder, but then I’ve stayed in such awful hotel rooms that I find them funny now. He does not.
First, the thermostat was wonky and unpredictable. The shower leaked onto the floor. Then there were ultra noisy people above us. In the middle of the night.
Next, they turned the lights off in the breakfast room, while we were still in there. Then the microwave didn’t work. Then the refrigerator didn't work. Then the ice machine didn't work. Then the television didn’t include the channel they advertised, on which we were hoping to watch said Conference. Then the phone to the front desk didn’t work, on which we were hoping to report these problems.
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