“….But having said all that, there is a certain hotel outside Ottawa
with a sign that advertises "34 exotic dancers every night" where I won't be staying again. I'd explain but it's a long story.
This is BITOG! And we’re more than willing to listen…..!!
It's a long story. But if you wanna hear it ...
I used to travel to Ottawa regularly, once a month or so. I always used a travel agent and had hotel reservations at my favourite hotel or an alternate if I couldn't get a room there. I would arrive at the Ottawa airport about 10:30 at night after a full day of work and go straight to my hotel, to sleep and get ready for meetings the next day.
On this occasion when I got to my regular hotel, they said they had given away my room because I hadn't arrived at a normal hour, my reservation hadn't been clear about the need to hold the room, and there was a big conference on in the city and a great shortage of rooms. I hadn't checked my travel itinerary as this trip was like a milk run. My travel documents were indeed a bit vague about the "guaranteed arrival" provisions. So I called my travel agent and said - "you guys messed up, find me a room". So the hotel and my travel agent both got busy and after some time my travel agent "found me a room". They said they didn't know the place but there was a room there - maybe the last one in Ottawa.
So I called for a taxi. The driver said, "You do have cash don't you?" I should have considered that a warning.
After an interminable trip (at least 20 miles) we arrived at the XXXX which had the sign "34 exotic dancers every night". But what was I going to do? It was about midnight, I had a meeting the next morning, and this might be the last hotel room in Ottawa. Inside, there was an eccentrically dressed older lady with a feather in her hair sitting by the check-in counter. The night clerk suggested I had better, "confirm the room for my whole stay because this is probably the last hotel room in Ottawa." I declined.
The night clerk carried my bags down a narrow hall with red shag carpet to a room with a bathroom door that was so crooked it couldn't be closed. I decided that I wasn't putting my bags on that floor, and I wasn't undressing or sleeping under those covers. I decided to call my travel agent to tell them to get me a better room. I had trouble getting a line out (the days before cell phones were common) so I moved a chair out from the corner to sit beside the bedside table (so I could keep trying to get a line out). There was a baited and set rat trap in the corner under the chair!
It was a miserable night. You get really cold sleeping in your clothes, lying on top of the covers. I had taken my shoes off. You don't lie on the bed wearing shoes in Canada. Every one in a while there was an ungodly snap. I would wake up, shake out my shoes, put my shoes on, turn on the light - only to find that the half size refrigerator crammed into the closet had started again. That happened over and over again all night. Lying there, I decided I could be really mad or find the whole thing funny so I decided funny was better. The next day my adventures regaled everyone at the meeting. And my travel agent came through - there were rooms at a high end hotel well outside my allowable travel budget (but on this occasion partially funded by my travel agent).
When I returned to my home office, there was a rat trap on my desk, squashing a rubber rat. The joke around the office was that YYYY wanted to go to the XXXX hotel on his next trip to Ottawa. A nice lady from the travel agent came to see me bearing a written apology. And I've dined out on this crazy story ever since. But I'll never stay at the XXXX again.