So yesterday was probably one of the most mortifying days I've had in a long time. I was off to Brittany again, to visit a new customer. After I was done, I made my way over to the hotel. Everything was all closed up and there wasn't any sign on the door explaining anything. I waited a bit, and then started feeling annoyed because 1) I had a lot of work to do and 2) what's the point of asking what time you're going to arrive if they're not even going to be there?
Another client shows up, and after making small-talk for a bit, I offer to call the front desk, hoping it would be forwarded to the manager's cell. She answers, and is basically like "Who are you? And what do you want?". So I'm a bit snippy back to her, but she takes her sweet time coming to open the door (or so I thought...).
When she finally opens it, she looks at me like "What do you want?" I think "Are we really going to play this game?", but instead I repeat again that I'd like to check-in. She asks my name, takes a look at her book, and then says "I don't see any reservation under that name". I say "I called at least two weeks ago to book". We go back and forth for a little bit, with me insisting that I'd reserved and her insisting that I hadn't. I think to myself "Argh, why does she always have to be such a cranky b*tch?"
Which triggered a little trip down memory lane....
She was so awful to me last time that I'd vowed to never stay there again. And thus had shopped around a bit and booked a much nicer hotel several kilometers away.
Meaning I in fact did not
have a reservation there.
I mumble something about going to the car to get proof of my reservation so I can think for a minute. And then I panic and I peel the heck out of there.
Meanwhile, I get a call from my real hotel, wondering where on Earth I am, since I'd said I was waiting outside. So I have to explain that I was at the wrong hotel and am in fact now on the way. One of the those times when you wish the world would just open you up and swallow you whole.
I arrive at the hotel, under the scathing gaze of the owner, who is standing there with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. I feel like a complete ass. I apologize profusely, and decide to make an attempt at ass-kissing by explaining that I normally stayed at the other hotel, but that I'd seen theirs online and that it had looked loads better. She purses her lips and then tells me they own them both. Argh again! Open Mouth, Insert Foot.
I can feel myself red with shame and embarrassment. She silently gives me my key and shows me to the room. It actually is really lovely. I say thank you, and she closes the door. I move to open the window. But it's rather dark in the room, so I don't see the big wooden beam over the window. I whack my head so hard my teeth rattle, and I fall to the ground in pain. I open my eyes slowly and see stars (and not just because the carpet was covered in them).
So now I am mortified AND I have a huge bump on my forehead. I turn in circles in the room for a bit, and then I remember the sign I'd seen a few kilometers back for a dolmen. Now dolmen are one of the (few) things I actually liked about Brittany. They fascinate me. And I find them calming. Sometimes I think I must have been a Celt in another life. So I park the car, and start walking through the forest to find it.
I come through a clearing, and ah! There it is.
Isn't it beautiful? Sitting *just so* on top of its rocky posts for thousands of years.
Now I get that the one above was likely used for burial grounds, but what could this guy have been used for?
I sit there for a while, letting the sounds of nature wash over me. Birds chirping. Leaves rustling in the wind. Cows mooing in the distance. I can feel my heartbeat slowing down.
And then I start making my way back to the hotel.
Labels: Dolmen, Hotel horrors, Travel