2004 Entries
2003 Entries
2002 Entries

2005-11-10 - 10:55 a.m.

Marriott Mishap

Any time diva and I go on an overnighter we end up in a holy mess at a hotel. This past weekend was no exception. We went off on a four-day professional conference (or a ‘Hot Damn Personal Retreat’) and our tendency for hotel calamity followed along with us.

We left on Saturday, our destination The Marriott Tan-Tar-A at Lake of the Ozarks. The day was glorious—sunny with above normal temperatures for November. An easy drive in scant traffic, a great lunch in a small lake-side café and a-no-hassle registration at the large Marriott Lodge. We forgo a suite in the main lodge area and always stay in a cabin/condo in The Estates: a beautifully wooded resort neighborhood spread throughout the bluffs overlooking Lake Ozark. We always get lost finding our condo unit, which—in defense of our ignorance—is nestled in a baffling maze of winding roads. We got lost Saturday afternoon, too. Twice.

Being lost and confused (believe it or not) was not our fault. A construction crew was renovating one of the condos in the unit we were assigned, and their trucks and equipment blocked the sign telling us the location of 6179. Another winding trip through The Estates and we figured it out and found our unit.

Electronic doors and credit-card keys have always been a mystery and pain in the ass to me. Diva has her own set of problems with the modern door locking system. But—between trading quips with the construction workers and making sure we had our important stuff (treats, mixer and vodka bottle)—we entered our room without incident.

We fiddled at the door inserting our card a lot on Saturday. And even on Sunday morning. It wasn’t until late Sunday afternoon that diva, a puzzled look on her face, said to me: “Hey, this gawdam door doesn’t lock.” I went outside and tried it. We fiddled some more with it. Sure enough, it didn’t lock. It had not been locked prior to our arrival or at any time after our arrival. No wonder we had smooth sailing entering our room and had not encountered our usual struggle with the mechanized door.

Later, while in the main lodge, I told a desk clerk about our no-lock door. She appeared shocked and assured me it would be taken care of. She would notify ‘engineering’ immediately and have them fix the door—if I didn’t mind having ‘engineering’ in the room: it was nearly 6:30p.m. That didn’t upset us, we were on our way for pizza and beer in the lounge anyway.

But ‘engineering’ wasn’t in our unit when we got back, and the door still didn’t lock. It was after 8:00—and we were in our jammies and the vodka bottle--when a scruffy ‘engineer’ knocked at our door. I explained the problem and he started to work. His first solution was to file the bolt. And file. And file. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up, and diva was collapsed in laughter on her bed. After several minutes of filing he slammed the door. We could hear him tugging at the handle and scratching around in the foyer. Finally, he yelled up at us: “Hm, you’re right, this here door is busted.” What he failed to tell us was that he was now locked in the unit with us. His last slam of the door had jammed it tight.

After much tugging and mumbling and scraping he did eventually get the door pried open and left to get a new battery to try and to “ask my buddy” how to fix the door. Ninety minutes later he returned. Alone. Except for a huge, black, rubber mallet he was packing. For the next hour he dismantled the electronic lock, installed a new battery and reassembled the apparatus. And tried the door. No luck, it didn’t work. The situation was now serious: it was time for the mallet. He hit the locking mechanism. And hit it and hit it and hit it. Then he checked his work…and the damned door locked! The engineer had fixed the electronic wizardry with his rubber mallet.

Albeit a bit miffed at the approach, diva and I were relieved to have a locking door for the remainder of our stay at The Marriott.

Previous -- Next