Luxury Accomodations
August 3rd, 2002 ~ Day 2 ~ Continued
Two things didn’t happen: First, the door didn’t open. The chain that secured it from the inside prevented it. Second, the people who were in the bed inside the room didn’t seem to notice that Kristina had opened their door and was looking at them, and peacefully went about their business as Kristina closed the door.
By this time I had lost all desire to keep cool. I told the bellhop to take our luggage back downstairs, and I went to the front desk to yell at someone.
It was 3:04 by the time I got through the (now longer) line to the front desk. I ended up talking to the same guy that gave us the keys to the occupied room, and asked him if it would be too much trouble to reassign us to a room that didn’t currently have guests in it. He took the stab in stride and, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, handed me the keys to our new room, this one containing two double beds instead of a king size. I came unglued. I figured I was in Mexico, and this was as a good a place as any to make a scene, so I did. I was sunburned, I was hot, and most of all I was mad, and I was going to make sure that he and everyone else in the room knew it. He really didn’t seem to care. He just said that king-size beds were subject to availability, and that I should check my itinerary to verify that. He had, in four minutes, given away all the king-size beds in the resort, and we were stuck with the leftovers. Fine. Great.
In the meantime, the bellhop had brought our luggage back up to the front desk, and had left to help other guests with their luggage. We waited about ten minutes before a hotel employee offered to help us with our luggage and show us to our room, as we had no idea which building was ours. He was nice, even apologetic, and carried all our luggage upstairs, again to the third floor - room 1233 (ironic - our room in Dallas was 3312). He checked the room to make sure that it was at least unoccupied, which it was, but came out saying that it needed to be cleaned. Barely holding my anger in check and imagining the worst, I walked into the room to see why it needed cleaning. Thankfully, it didn’t look too bad.
The bellhop had told us to dial 60 on the phone to reach housekeeping, which I did. I explained the situation to the person on the other end of the line, who apparently didn’t speak much English. I finished by saying, “We need someone to come clean the room right away”, to which she responded, “Oh, housekeeping”, and hung up. I dialed the number for housekeeping again. No answer. I dialed again. No answer. I dialed the number to the front desk. No answer. I called Guest Services. No answer.
We gave up. We took our showers.