(…And now we return to our tale of adventure…)
I call my mother for the millionth time that morning. She’s at work, I’m not sure if she can hear me over the machinery at her job, but she tells me to use her credit card (which I have in case of emergencies, it’s usually something I ask tot take on long trips, just in case something happens and I don’t have the funds to cover it) to get a hotel and go have fun. And after talking to a very tired Patrick, who I woke up with the call after I missed my flight the first time, I decide it’s time to leave the airport and get somewhere else, anywhere by this airport.
I push my way out of the airport. My bag has been cutting into my shoulder for almost four hours at this point. Someone tells me that I need a jacket because of how cold it is outside. I dismiss them. I don’t have the fortitude to talk with anyone. I don’t think it can be that cold. It was about -20F when I showed up that morning, but the sun has been out, it has to be warmer. It’s now -13F out and I’m wearing a dress with leggings. I don’t even feel the cold. I feel my boots loose traction on the sidewalk as I slide over the concrete. I just want to sit down somewhere safe and be alone for a few minutes.
It doesn’t take me very long to reach my truck. The truck that I’ve already said goodbye to, sweet Beverly. I unlock the doors, throw my stuff in the back, and go to find a hotel. Except I’m in Canada. I can make phone calls and send texts, but I don’t have any data. I sigh heavily, my breath is super scratchy in my throat, I haven’t had any water to drink in hours; and the windshield frosts over where it hits. I’m not sure how, but the air in the cab is significantly colder than the air outside and it’s starting to sink into my sink and make me shiver. I tell Beverly that I’m sorry. That I thought she was going to have a vacation and that I’m sorry that I have to get her to work on such short notice. I’ve said this out loud. The sheer silliness of it makes me laugh. I finally dig into the cookies that my mother had made for me, start the engine (takes a bit longer because of the cold), and plug my phone in. Once again I try to pull up an app that needs data and get frustrated as I remind myself YET AGAIN, that I don’t have data. I decide to find a place with free wifi and find a hotel. I drive around until I find a Tim Horton’s, they require a passphrase to sign in. I don’t have one and I’m not interested in going in to get it. Another few sighs later and I find a McDonalds. The signal is weak and keeps disconnecting on me. But I find a hotel in my Expedia app and call them. I pretend to be my mother, I’ve decided to listen to her and use her credit card to get a hotel. I need sleep so badly. When they pick up the phone, my voice cracks and I barely make a sound. The woman on the other end of the line is patient with me, and I’ve never appreciated it more. I explain that my ‘daughter’ missed her flight and needs a place to stay for the day and the evening, she has my credit card. The woman tells me that all ‘I’ need to do is fill out a form that they’ll email to me that authorizes my ‘daughter’ to use the card. I have them email it to my mother, tell my mother to forward it to me, and I’ll send it back to her, and she’ll send it back to them. My reason for this? Because somewhere in my brain, my brain decided that it needed to make this process harder because they will be tracking the email and make sure that it’s all coming and going from the same address and if we don’t do it this way, I’ll have to sleep in my car and I’ll freeze to death. Insane I know, but I’ve been up for way to long. We get the paperwork out of the way. and I pull up the GPS get directions to the hotel and drive over there. I’m talking to myself in great length or maybe I’m talking to the truck, don’t know, don’t care, to tired. I’m laughing at my own jokes. I’m crying a bit.
I pull into the hotel parking lot and it is much nicer than I thought it was going to be. The hotel that is, not the parking lot; most of those are pretty standard looking. I pulled into my space and took a few moments trying to figure out how not to sound like the voice I had used for my mother on the phone. I tried to say a few words and it wasn’t happening. I decided that it couldn’t have been the same woman I spoke to over the phone and headed inside. It was totally the same woman. Thankfully she just went with it. I told her that my ‘mother’ had called me and had said she set this up for me. The woman told me they had a double queen room available at that moment and that she would get me into that one. I hand her my passport and my mother’s credit card. She rings me in and tells me about the bar they have in the hotel. I’m sure I acknowledged her at one point. After check in she points to the lift, I get in, go up to my room, and I am met by a rather wonderful room.It’s so clean and nice that I forgot for a second about how tired I am. But, there is a better part of the room.
No, seriously, the beds lit up. It seemed a bit shady at first. Why would I need neon mood lighting in a hotel room. What sort of skeeze stays here. I explore the room a bit more, and it turns out, it’s just a light up bed. In fact it even has patterns. I couldn’t believe how cool it was. So much in fact I took a video. It was a very large room too. In the future when I am writing this, I’m a housekeeper for the summer, our double room don’t even come close to how big this one was. And I paid less that $100 USD for this room, our rooms at my current employer run for about $200 USD a night. So, I was super happy. Oh and each queen bed, HAD SIX PILLOWS! So guess who had a twelve pillow night? That’s right, me. Patrick would have hated it. I changed into my pajamas, grabbed my bear, and fell asleep is a super deep and comforting sleep.
I fell asleep around 11:00 am and woke up around 6:00 pm. I hadn’t slept that well in a very long time. My body was still very tired, but I needed food and a shower.
Do you know how nice it was to have that shower? It was like a movie shower. So nice. I also had a television in there. So I was pampered.
I decided to order dinner from the bar downstairs. They don’t deliver to the room, so I changed clothes, waltzed downstairs, and gathered me delicious poutine and sandwich.
It was so good. A french dip. That’s all it was. But it was amazing. I learned during this that American poutine is way to salty. Like, seriously. Canadian TV is about the same though, but there are many more french programs. I didn’t understand a single one.
It’s now 11:00 pm. I find myself getting very tired again, I’ve done all that I can do. I set the ten different alarms on my phone so that I am up and ready to go at 3:00 am, so that I don’t miss my flight again. I have weird dreams about flying and I wake up in a panic because I think I’ve missed it. I get up and try to decide what I’m going to wear for the flight ahead. Something comfortable. Something… adventurous.
End of PartII