This past weekend, we stayed at what is our favorite hotel near The Boy's school. The staff is friendly, accomodating and efficient. They always have cookies and coffee available in the lobby. The rooms are spacious and clean. Such cannot be said for all hotels in the vicinity.
I do so adore a nice clean hotel.
As we were checking in, the desk attendant was type-type-typing into her terminal as she chattered to us. She looked up at Wendy and asked, "You're sharing the room?"
Wendy nodded yes.
The young lady looked at her computer screen again and said, "There is only a king-sized bed in this one. Would you like me to change y'all to a room with two queens?"
I spoke up, smiling, "Well, no. King-sized is perfect. That's exactly what we want."
The other desk attendant, who was reading a newspaper nearby, gave a muffled snort. The one who was helping us looked down quickly and mumbled, "Oh... ummm... okay... I see..." as she nervously shuffled paper from one stack to another.
As many years as Wendy and I have been checking into hotels together we'd never been asked that, although I've always half-expected it. I wondered how I'd react, whether I'd get all stuttery and turn red and babble. Such a situation does, after all, proclaim to the clerk something rather personal about ourselves, doesn't it?
I'm pleased to announce I didn't even come close to blushing or stuttering. Can't say the same for the desk clerk though. Wonder if she'll ever ask two women that question again?