Panic of the day
I'm going to New York this weekend to take my mom to the Belmont Stakes (sorry, New Yorkers -- quick trip, with mom, means no seeing friends; if I'm lucky, I'll have time for a hot chocolate at City Bakery on Sunday evening).
My seventy-seven-year-old, somewhat-unworldly mother, whose plantar fasciitis is acting up.
She already said that if we couldn't get good tickets to the Stakes and had to do general admission, and therefore a lot of stairs, that she couldn't go. Fortunately, we got excellent tickets in the ticket lottery, so no worries there.
Then she called at 7 this morning to ask me to meet her at Laguardia instead of Penn Station, because of the aforementioned plantar fasciitis, which has her unable to deal with luggage, an unfamiliar airport, and a shuttle to downtown all at the same time.
I thought I was clever when I booked a suite at the Chelsea Star. Cheap (for downtown New York), with a kitchenette, and two beds in separate bedrooms. Mom claims she doesn't snore anymore. I disagree. Separate bedrooms seemed the wisest way to keep familial peace.
Today I looked at the hotel's site to see if they had internet in the rooms...and saw, to my horror, "We are a walk-up hotel, with NO ELEVATOR". How did I miss that before? And it's too late to cancel the reservation without paying for the first night -- a $250 mistake. And I don't have the wherewithal today to deal with a hotel scramble.
Called them, asked which floor the suites are on. My luck is holding -- our suite is on the first floor. Whew. Mounting anxiety about maternal approbation is melting away.
My seventy-seven-year-old, somewhat-unworldly mother, whose plantar fasciitis is acting up.
She already said that if we couldn't get good tickets to the Stakes and had to do general admission, and therefore a lot of stairs, that she couldn't go. Fortunately, we got excellent tickets in the ticket lottery, so no worries there.
Then she called at 7 this morning to ask me to meet her at Laguardia instead of Penn Station, because of the aforementioned plantar fasciitis, which has her unable to deal with luggage, an unfamiliar airport, and a shuttle to downtown all at the same time.
I thought I was clever when I booked a suite at the Chelsea Star. Cheap (for downtown New York), with a kitchenette, and two beds in separate bedrooms. Mom claims she doesn't snore anymore. I disagree. Separate bedrooms seemed the wisest way to keep familial peace.
Today I looked at the hotel's site to see if they had internet in the rooms...and saw, to my horror, "We are a walk-up hotel, with NO ELEVATOR". How did I miss that before? And it's too late to cancel the reservation without paying for the first night -- a $250 mistake. And I don't have the wherewithal today to deal with a hotel scramble.
Called them, asked which floor the suites are on. My luck is holding -- our suite is on the first floor. Whew. Mounting anxiety about maternal approbation is melting away.