All during my time of travel, day after day revealed another new pleasure under the sun. Every day a blessing, every step of the journey to be enjoyed -- except...
Last year Inga had warned us to book a hotel in Eugene pretty soon, like I mean no later than November, to make sure we had a place to stay for graduation the coming June. But, I am reluctant to nail down where I will be a year from now while on vacation. Besides, we had to coordinate with Sue's busy summer schedule at work before we knew the actual dates of when we would need to make those hotel reservations. As we eased into March, I was informed we could wait no longer, if we wanted a place to stay within 30 miles of Eugene, we'd better get our credit card out and make reservations for a multi-night stay near the University of Oregon. I scouted on-line in March to find what was available three months hence in the Eugene-Springfield area.
Just as I had been told, there were not many vacancies. However, I did find a room for Sue, Grant and me in Springfield, just 6 miles from the University at the Shiloh Inn. So, you may ask, "Did you have reservations when you came to town?" Let me answer that by saying, "If I did not have my reservations about staying at a Shiloh Inn before I came to town, let me emphasize I certainly have reservations now."
As mentioned in the previous chapter, Grant and I picked Sue up in Portland when she landed on Friday at 11:35 PM. We arrived at our hotel around 1:30 AM. Knowing that we would get in late that night, I had stopped by to check in around 3 in the afternoon before driving to Portland. This was apparently about time for a staff shift change, and the gal at the desk was answering a flurry of phone calls with an abrupt, "Hun, will you please hold!" -- click. While I waited patiently for the guy in front of me to make a complaint about the lack of a working phone in his room; I noticed the staff liked to indulge themselves by getting, what looked in my mind to be questionable, yet permanent graphics, inked into their skin along with a glamorous and decorous assortment of metal bars and hoops adorning their lips, nasal passages and eye brows (and who knows what else). Now, I know my mere mention of the pierced and tattooed Shiloh Inn front desk staff sounds "judgemental" and intolerant. But, I'm just saying, they choose the make a statement by looking this way; and as I have worked to earn curmudgeon status, I have found that my prejudices have not disappeared with my life experiences, they have only become refined.
Lydia, the tattooed lady at the front desk was nice enough to me (once she griped about all the people calling her for information), as she called up my reservation on a computer screen and said, "I see we have you for two nights". I politely said, well, that is interesting because I have made reservations for 4 nights and have been charged for 4 nights already."
"Oh. Ok, I see. Now I've got you for 4 nights hun. Here you go!" as she handed me two brass keys for room 218. I have not had a hotel with metal keys to the room in years; oh how quaint. I thought every major hotel chain had the electronic card keys nowadays. I guess I am wrong.
Grant and I checked in. There were no base boards in the hallway, just carpet that probably looked OK in 1991 when I think it was installed, but now it was just threadbare and dirty and lapped against the hallway's amateurly painted white wall. The door too showed signs of a quick dash of flat blue-gray paint that added to the dumpy ambiance of the whole interior, and I don't mean that in a good way. It'll have to do. We dropped our luggage and headed north to find my wife at the Portland airport.
The first night, I made sure that I put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside of the door, since we had gotten to bed so late and were intending to sleep in.
Returning later on the second day, I find that house keeping had not come to our room, and yes, I did take off the "Do Not Disturb" hanger before we left for Inga's place that morning. So, I go down to the front desk and ask personally for extra towels for 218, since the soggy ones we had used are still on our bathroom floor. The chief of housekeeping heard my request and promised that 218 would be taken care of the next day. Thank you.
A long day with the graduate. Back to Shiloh Inn for bed. I have gone to sleep and I am awakened in a confused state of mind: Am I dreaming? Is someone talking to me? Is this real? What is going on? My head clears and I discover a strange man silhouetted against my opened hotel room door! My heart pounds immediately up into my throat, I feel like I have squirrels inside my chest, adrenaline kicks in, I spring form beneath my covers and charge toward the strange man coming into where me and my family are sleeping. He takes a few quick steps back across the threshold and I slam the door shut.
I hear, "Excuse me sir, hotel security; are you checked into this room?"
I put on my "No Guff Aggressive Voice" and sand say to him, "What the H-E-double toothpicks are you doing inside my room with me and my family?!"
"I'm Baalzebub with hotel security sir, I didn't know if anybody was in this room or not."
"Damn you! Yes, I checked into this room yesterday! That is how I got the keys!"
"OK, I am sorry, I did not know if any one was in here."
I made sure I threw the extra security latch across the inside of the door as clueless security slinks back down the cavernous, fluorescent lit white washed walls of this amateur, slip shod operation excuse for a hotel. I slip back into bed to let the adrenaline drain out of my system. I wish I had brought my bowie knife to place under my pillow.
I have unwound enough and have dozed back to catch the first elements of sleep, when the room phone rings at 5 minutes after midnight.
"Hi. This is the front desk. I just want to check to see if you are in room 218; because I don't show that you are in that room."
I can't believe this.
"Yeah, we just had one of your morons walk into my room where me and my family were sleeping", I explain.
"Well, sir that is because we do not show that you have been assigned that room."
I am not so cool right now, "Damn you all! That sounds very much like that is YOUR problem. Because I checked in and was given keys to this room, my assigned room."
"Well sir, whoever checked you in did not..."
"Why are you calling me after midnight after you have already walked into my room in the middle of the night? This your problem and I do not like having my room invaded, nor do I like talking to you this late at night!"
I complained about the creepy encounter and poor manners at the front desk in the morning. The gal offered me $20 and yeah this isn't the first time this has happened [!!]. I said, I'll take this up with your corporate office.
Lock your doors and close your mind - those folks with piercings and ink are just about as competent as you think they are. Probably real good at parties and magic mushrooms, but not too good at service. Shiloh of course is the Hebrew word for peace, but I think it has lost something in translation.
You can find Shiloh Inn in Springfield at the first exit as you enter hell.
Sweet dreams.
Last year Inga had warned us to book a hotel in Eugene pretty soon, like I mean no later than November, to make sure we had a place to stay for graduation the coming June. But, I am reluctant to nail down where I will be a year from now while on vacation. Besides, we had to coordinate with Sue's busy summer schedule at work before we knew the actual dates of when we would need to make those hotel reservations. As we eased into March, I was informed we could wait no longer, if we wanted a place to stay within 30 miles of Eugene, we'd better get our credit card out and make reservations for a multi-night stay near the University of Oregon. I scouted on-line in March to find what was available three months hence in the Eugene-Springfield area.
Just as I had been told, there were not many vacancies. However, I did find a room for Sue, Grant and me in Springfield, just 6 miles from the University at the Shiloh Inn. So, you may ask, "Did you have reservations when you came to town?" Let me answer that by saying, "If I did not have my reservations about staying at a Shiloh Inn before I came to town, let me emphasize I certainly have reservations now."
As mentioned in the previous chapter, Grant and I picked Sue up in Portland when she landed on Friday at 11:35 PM. We arrived at our hotel around 1:30 AM. Knowing that we would get in late that night, I had stopped by to check in around 3 in the afternoon before driving to Portland. This was apparently about time for a staff shift change, and the gal at the desk was answering a flurry of phone calls with an abrupt, "Hun, will you please hold!" -- click. While I waited patiently for the guy in front of me to make a complaint about the lack of a working phone in his room; I noticed the staff liked to indulge themselves by getting, what looked in my mind to be questionable, yet permanent graphics, inked into their skin along with a glamorous and decorous assortment of metal bars and hoops adorning their lips, nasal passages and eye brows (and who knows what else). Now, I know my mere mention of the pierced and tattooed Shiloh Inn front desk staff sounds "judgemental" and intolerant. But, I'm just saying, they choose the make a statement by looking this way; and as I have worked to earn curmudgeon status, I have found that my prejudices have not disappeared with my life experiences, they have only become refined.
Lydia, the tattooed lady at the front desk was nice enough to me (once she griped about all the people calling her for information), as she called up my reservation on a computer screen and said, "I see we have you for two nights". I politely said, well, that is interesting because I have made reservations for 4 nights and have been charged for 4 nights already."
"Oh. Ok, I see. Now I've got you for 4 nights hun. Here you go!" as she handed me two brass keys for room 218. I have not had a hotel with metal keys to the room in years; oh how quaint. I thought every major hotel chain had the electronic card keys nowadays. I guess I am wrong.
Grant and I checked in. There were no base boards in the hallway, just carpet that probably looked OK in 1991 when I think it was installed, but now it was just threadbare and dirty and lapped against the hallway's amateurly painted white wall. The door too showed signs of a quick dash of flat blue-gray paint that added to the dumpy ambiance of the whole interior, and I don't mean that in a good way. It'll have to do. We dropped our luggage and headed north to find my wife at the Portland airport.
The first night, I made sure that I put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside of the door, since we had gotten to bed so late and were intending to sleep in.
Returning later on the second day, I find that house keeping had not come to our room, and yes, I did take off the "Do Not Disturb" hanger before we left for Inga's place that morning. So, I go down to the front desk and ask personally for extra towels for 218, since the soggy ones we had used are still on our bathroom floor. The chief of housekeeping heard my request and promised that 218 would be taken care of the next day. Thank you.
A long day with the graduate. Back to Shiloh Inn for bed. I have gone to sleep and I am awakened in a confused state of mind: Am I dreaming? Is someone talking to me? Is this real? What is going on? My head clears and I discover a strange man silhouetted against my opened hotel room door! My heart pounds immediately up into my throat, I feel like I have squirrels inside my chest, adrenaline kicks in, I spring form beneath my covers and charge toward the strange man coming into where me and my family are sleeping. He takes a few quick steps back across the threshold and I slam the door shut.
I hear, "Excuse me sir, hotel security; are you checked into this room?"
I put on my "No Guff Aggressive Voice" and sand say to him, "What the H-E-double toothpicks are you doing inside my room with me and my family?!"
"I'm Baalzebub with hotel security sir, I didn't know if anybody was in this room or not."
"Damn you! Yes, I checked into this room yesterday! That is how I got the keys!"
"OK, I am sorry, I did not know if any one was in here."
I made sure I threw the extra security latch across the inside of the door as clueless security slinks back down the cavernous, fluorescent lit white washed walls of this amateur, slip shod operation excuse for a hotel. I slip back into bed to let the adrenaline drain out of my system. I wish I had brought my bowie knife to place under my pillow.
I have unwound enough and have dozed back to catch the first elements of sleep, when the room phone rings at 5 minutes after midnight.
"Hi. This is the front desk. I just want to check to see if you are in room 218; because I don't show that you are in that room."
I can't believe this.
"Yeah, we just had one of your morons walk into my room where me and my family were sleeping", I explain.
"Well, sir that is because we do not show that you have been assigned that room."
I am not so cool right now, "Damn you all! That sounds very much like that is YOUR problem. Because I checked in and was given keys to this room, my assigned room."
"Well sir, whoever checked you in did not..."
"Why are you calling me after midnight after you have already walked into my room in the middle of the night? This your problem and I do not like having my room invaded, nor do I like talking to you this late at night!"
I complained about the creepy encounter and poor manners at the front desk in the morning. The gal offered me $20 and yeah this isn't the first time this has happened [!!]. I said, I'll take this up with your corporate office.
Lock your doors and close your mind - those folks with piercings and ink are just about as competent as you think they are. Probably real good at parties and magic mushrooms, but not too good at service. Shiloh of course is the Hebrew word for peace, but I think it has lost something in translation.
You can find Shiloh Inn in Springfield at the first exit as you enter hell.
Sweet dreams.
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