Hey, 19!

I'm a Hilton Diamond member. Basically, it means that I book at least 25 stays a year at a Hilton property. That is not as easy as you might think. Although I travel a lot, some of my destinations are fairly small and rural. So in those cases, I'm staying somewhere off-brand.  But to be honest, you have to be a pretty shitty town to not have a Hampton Inn.

Tonight I ended up back at the same Hampton I checked out of Thursday morning.

One of the benefits of being a Hilton Diamond member is that I get to pick my room before I even arrive.

Because so much of travel is unpredictable, the fact that I have control over this one small aspect means that I milk it for all it is worth.

When it comes to picking my hotel room, I have standards. I prefer to be away from the elevator, but not too far away from the elevator. I prefer a higher floor, but not too high. I don't want to be near the stairs, and I don't want a room that adjoins. What's behind that door?  Don't know, don't want to know.

This trip, I decided to pick the exact same room I had last week. I liked the layout, and it's one less thing to have to remember.

So tonight, when I checked in at around 11:45 p.m., I took my keys, went upstairs, and noticed a beer can outside my door. Hmmph.

Not only that, when I tried to open the door my keys wouldn't work. I realized I heard the TV on in there. I went back downstairs to raise holy hell.  Luckily, before I got there I happened to look at the number written on the envelope. The Hampton Inn decided to throw me a curveball.

For whatever reason, they disregarded my online check-in and gave me the room directly across the hall from the one last week.

So, to the person who was in room 419 tonight and heard me trying to forcibly enter: mea culpa. Also, don't leave your fucking beer can in the hall. Rude.

To the woman at the check-in desk: you are not Crystal Gayle. Get a haircut, or put your hair back when you're working.

To everyone else: goodnight.