I am traveling. Amoeba is not. He is still at home. I have a zippy little rental car I abhor and am in a hotel with a sweet little name and great staff. The room boasts nice furniture and a comfy bed, but things are starting to look a little worn around the edges. Amoeba probably would have zipped right by this place, but I am so glad I decided to stop. Let me explain …
I forgot to tell the bank I was leaving home, so the computer freaked at the unusual activity on my bank card and put a stop on it. Of course, it did this when I was trying to check into my hotel room. I am far from home, alone, and don’t have enough cash in my wallet to compensate for a loss quite that large.
I called the bank. They said they’d reset the account and I should have funds again by morning. In the meantime I am having visions of spending the night in the Wal-Mart parking lot in an economy car. NOT my idea of a good time.
I called Amoeba. He didn’t answer. I apologized to the hotel clerk and picked up my stuff, fated to spend the night in my car — and the clerk said, “Here’s your room key. Go ahead and go up. These things happen. You can just pay us in the morning.”
I was astounded. People just don’t do things like that. I bet it wouldn’t have happened at that ritzy hotel up the street. THAT is why I am glad I stopped here.
So, I get to my room and Amoeba calls, all stressed because the bank called him about the activity on the card. He, of course, is worried about where I am and if I am safe. He was astounded to learn I was in my room. He also told me that he confirmed my whereabouts with the bank, and my card should work again. I went down to the desk and paid my bill. The clerk wasn’t at all surprised and told me they’d never been stiffed yet.
Tomorrow I meet a fellow blogger and spend some time with a cousin I haven’t seen in several years. She just told me that today is her eldest child’s 28th birthday, and last time I saw him he was still crawling and in diapers. Oh my.