I did something wrong during the booking process, and at about 60% of the hostels we check into, a variation of the following happens:
“Hi. We should have a reservation under Dillon?”
“Yep, let’s see here. Dillon, Dillon, Dillon…. Hm. Sure you’re on here somewhere, just… let’s see. Hm. It loooooooks like…. Is there any chance… no wait…. Hm. Is there any chance… could it be under another name?”
At first this was scary. But now I know to say, “Conor?”
“Ah yes, here it is! Right here!” Big smile! Big relief!
In Queenstown, though, having huffed our way uphill to the hostel, it was different.
This time, when I gave our name, she looked up with dread, as if she’d been expecting us all evening. “So,” she squirmed, “uh, one of our new girls must’ve done your booking, way back when, we had some new girls a while back and–
[COUNTERATTACK, ENGAGE!]
“well, I’m reeeeeeally sorry to say–”
[MISSILES, TARGETED!]
“–I had to put you in a room with two twins, instead of a queen. But I pushed them together, so there’s really not much difference.”
[DISENGAGE...?]
“And it’s cheaper,” she added, “so you’re actually saving money on it.”
[stand down]
But the roller-coaster wasn’t over.
