Tag Archives: Hotel

#blogchallenge: Fortune Cookie #25


by Lillian Csernica on May 25, 2018

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Today’s fortune says:

Laughter shall fuel the spirit’s engine.

LET THERE BE LIGHT

Kyoto. Nice hotel room. More like an apartment.

Could not figure out how to work the overhead light. Little reading lights by each bed.

Found what looked like an upright card reader where a light switch would be.

Stuck my room key in, light came on, pulled my key out. A minute later the light went out. Rinse, repeat, about three times.

Called front desk. Explained problem. They were puzzled. Sent a guy to check.

He put my key card in the slot. Light came on. He didn’t see any problem. Why?

HE LEFT THE KEY CARD IN THE KEY READER.

That was the secret! Once I removed the key, as I would if I was leaving the room, then the lights would automatically turn off about a minute after I’d left the room.

I have rarely felt like such a total bonehead.

 

 

 

 

 

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Universal Fun!


by Lillian Csernica on June 24, 2017

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Tomorrow John and I will fly down to Los Angeles and spend a few days enjoying the wonders of Universal Studios Hollywood.

John has been talking about seeing Universal Studios ever since he first heard about it many years ago. Chris and I decided that a trip to this previously unexplored land of movie magic makes the perfect graduation gift for our boy.

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John and I have studied the map. We’ve discussed what we each want to see the most. Today we’ve been packing our bags. Tomorrow we take our first plane trip together. I’m pretty sure what John is looking forward to the most is The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

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Me, I’m looking forward to the air conditioning on the plane, at the hotel, and on many of the rides. I’m not a big fan of heat, preferring autumn and winter to summer. I suppose this is an indicator of my advancing years. Insane roller coasters are great, but they lost their appeal for me after I reached my late twenties.

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Even so, I can’t wait to watch the Special Effects Show with John, to get silly in the Despicable Me Minion Mayhem area, and probably scream at least once on the Jurassic Park ride. Best of all, I finally get to drink butter beer and hang out at Ollivander’s where Harry Potter’s wand chose him!

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My grandfather worked in the movies. My mother has appeared as an extra in several. I did some writing for the movies, once upon a time. And now my son loves movies just as much as the previous generations in our family have.

Watch for my trip report once we’re home again!

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K is for Key


by Lillian Csernica on April 13, 2016

 

On H Day you read some of my hotel stories.  Now let’s talk about keys!  Modern hotels have those plastic cards much like ATM cards that you stick in the slot and pull out again in order to unlock the door.  Sounds simple enough, right?  If only that were true.

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Norwescon, Seattle, WA — On our very first night in the DoubleTree, I had made the long and weary trek from the main area of the hotel all the way to Wing 5B, third floor, our room.  I swear, it took at least ten minutes to get there.  I stuck my key card into the slot.

The key did not work.  The little light did not turn green.  It worked earlier.  It would not work now.

I was less than thrilled at the prospect of hiking all the way back to the front desk to get this sorted out.  I couldn’t call the front desk on my cell, because the only number I could find was the main reservation line.  I was ready to start banging my head against the wall when a neighbor two doors down (Not the Vikings.  This was in the other direction.) offered me the use of his phone.  I called the front desk, they sent a security guard who checked my ID and verified that my key wouldn’t work.  I got a new key and got into our hotel room.  Later, when Pat and Nancy came back for the night, I felt a whole lot less embarrassed when their keys wouldn’t work either.  Lucky for them, I was there to open the door.  The next day all three of us went to the front desk for “fresh” keys.

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Citadines Karasuma-Gojo, Kyoto, Japan — After two planes, a bus, and a taxi, Pat and I arrived on the doorstep of the residential hotel where we would stay.  Our room was quite modern and very comfortable.  Problem: I could not find a light switch for the main room.  After some experimentation, I realized I had to put my room key into a slot that was up & down, as opposed to in & out. Thinking it was like most key card readers, I pushed my key down and pulled it up again.  The lights came on.  All was well.

Two minutes later, the lights went out.

After going through this twice more, I called the front desk.  Pat tells me that listening to my side of the conversation was pretty funny, because I was trying so hard to be calm and polite when I really wanted to smash something.  Once I made it clear to the folks at the front desk that the lights would not stay on, they sent somebody from Maintenance.  He provided us with the “key” to the solution: you had to leave the card in the slot to keep the lights on.  When you left, you took your key with you, which would ensure not leaving the lights on while you were out.  Wow.  Never seen that one before!

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This is art.  It’s not me.

BayCon — Once again, Pat and I were not staying in the main convention hotel.  Pat picked me up and drove us to the hotel she’d chosen.  It had been a really stressful week with the boys.  I was so tired I almost fell asleep in the car even though it was only late afternoon.  Pat got us checked in.  I followed her around the labyrinth of wrought iron stairways and hallways thronged by teenage girls in some kind of sports uniforms.  (They all seemed to be blonde, but maybe fatigue blurred my memories.)  Our room was located outside an exterior door, on this little chunk of balcony, where there was a bitter wind blowing as the sun began to set.

Guess what happened next?  That’s right.  The key wouldn’t work.

I was SO not in the mood for that.  Pat went back to the front desk while I stood there in the cold breeze and tried to stay awake.  Ten or fifteen minutes later Pat came back.  She stopped right outside the door, as far from me as she could get while still being on the balcony.

“Promise me you won’t kill me,” she said.

Adrenalin surged inside me, but not enough to make me move.  “What happened?”

“Promise me you won’t kill me.”

“Tell me what happened!”

“Promise me–”

“I’m too tired to kill you.  Now tell me what happened!”

She’d transposed two digits of our room number.  The key wouldn’t work because we were standing outside the wrong door.

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H is for Hotel


by Lillian Csernica on April 9, 2016

An important part of any travel is where you’re going to stay for the night.  If you aren’t fortunate enough to have friends or family in the area, then you will probably end up getting a room in an hotel.  I have quite a few hotel stories.

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When I was 10, 13, and 16, my father and I drove from Southern California to Toledo, OH to visit my grandmother.  It took us about 3 days to get there.  We stopped for the night at cheap local motels.  On the inside, they all looked pretty much the same.  Knotty pine walls, thrift store furniture, ugly paintings, and sagging mattresses.  Until I was old enough for a driver’s license, I had to invent various games to keep myself entertained during the long hours on the road. On one particular trip  I recall sitting up late in the bathroom with the door shut so the light wouldn’t keep Daddy awake.  I wrote postcards to a friend of mine from my debate team days.  I’d drop them in the mail at post offices along the way so the postcards arrived one after the other like those old Burma Shave signs!

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At BayCon one year Pat and I didn’t make our hotel reservation in time, so we ended up at the Motel 6 down the street.  The room was clean, with a bed and a shower, which is pretty much all I really need.  We did discover one very strange feature.  The light switch for the bathroom was on the wall outside the actual bathroom itself.  Do I need to tell you what happened next?  Pat and I would sneak up on each other and flip the switch at some very inconvenient moments!

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My husband and I met at the Northern Renaissance Faire and even worked there together for a few years.  When I became pregnant with our first son, I wasn’t working Faire anymore, but Chris and I did decide to go visit for a weekend.  We booked a  cheap motel near the Faire site and woke up Sunday morning to the sounds of the people in the next room having a very good time.  So good they were slamming their headboard against the wall just on the other side next to our heads.  I got up and took a shower.  Now I was at that stage of pregnancy where your balance starts to change.  The shower/bathtub unit was brand sparkling new, no mat or traction pads on the bottom, and no safety rail.  My husband told me later what happened next.

There I was, in the shower, washing my long hair.  I got soap in my eyes, leaned back to wash it away, and lost my balance.  Our neighbors reached the Big Moment in their good time.  He screamed, she screamed, and then I screamed.  My husband told me there was a moment of stunned silence, a sudden thumping as of running feet, then the door to their room opened and shut.  Car doors slammed, the engine revved, and they took off.  I stepped out of the bathroom minutes later to find my husband still whooping with laughter.

 

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Photo courtesy of A Creative Writing Place

On a side street just off of Beverly Hills boulevard, quite close to some of the big, glitzy hotels, there is a small family-run hotel that was built in the 1930s.  Pat and I stayed there about 12 years ago when we were working on some screenplays for an actor who was also a world champion martial artist.  One night, quite late, we heard sounds in the room above us like somebody was bowling or moving heavy furniture.  In the morning we asked the manager about it.  He insisted the room was unoccupied.  This was an old building, under partial renovation.  OK fine.  The next night,  after midnight, we had a plugged toilet some plumbing problems.  We knew the manager and his wife were already asleep, so I went downstairs looking for a supply closet.

This was a bad idea.  No, I was not in the basement.  I did have to walk down a hallway I’d never seen before.  The light was on, the doors were shut, and I couldn’t find what I was looking for.  When I turned around to walk back, some of the doors were slightly ajar.  I had that horrible feeling of being watched.  And then I heard three or four little kids whispering and giggling.  There were no children in the hotel.  At all.  I bolted upstairs like I had hellhounds chasing me.  Between my panic and the resulting asthma attack it took me at least ten minutes to tell Pat what happened.  She went downstairs and came back with the plunger we needed.

We never stayed in that hotel again.

 

 

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