JFC, Don't DO That To Me
Fucking Travelodge, Jesus fucking Christ, bastards just nearly gave me a heart attack. I went to look up my booking number for this weekend's little jaunt to Asylum 8, and there was no booking showing on my Travelodge account. And I can't find a confirmation email anywhere either, but they've definitely taken the money from my account. I ring the hotel, and they blithely go, oh no, there's no booking in that name. Cue completely meltdown; I've been off work sick with stress for 2 weeks, so it doesn't take much to set me off at the moment. I make a panicked call to Customer Services. Who, thank all the deities, say sure you have a booking, it's all here, your confirmation number is xxxxx. I ring the hotel back, just to be absolutely sure, and it turns out they'd just typed my odd surname in wrong, despite me spelling it out for them TWICE. Gah.
Also, I can't book into my hotel until 3pm, and Asylum in their infinite wisdom have decided to start the talks and autographs this afternoon, instead of tomorrow morning as previously advertised. At 3pm. And they're leading with Misha, who I Can. Not. Miss. So unless I can persuade the Hilton to put my junk in their Left Luggage for a few hours, I'm gonna be toting a huge suitcase around to the talks and whatnot, all afternoon. Oh, whoopee.
I do hope the rest of the weekend goes smoother than this, JFC.
Also, I can't book into my hotel until 3pm, and Asylum in their infinite wisdom have decided to start the talks and autographs this afternoon, instead of tomorrow morning as previously advertised. At 3pm. And they're leading with Misha, who I Can. Not. Miss. So unless I can persuade the Hilton to put my junk in their Left Luggage for a few hours, I'm gonna be toting a huge suitcase around to the talks and whatnot, all afternoon. Oh, whoopee.
I do hope the rest of the weekend goes smoother than this, JFC.