Here is me making a short story long (it's what I do). But really? Jen & I did wait 2 hours for a microwave before I headed down to the lobby [of the Westin St. Francis in San Francisco, Union Square, at 11 p.m., where 100+ people were enjoying their evening in the bar, fully dressed] in my pajamas & sequined slippers to put the smackdown on that deceitful front desk.
And then? There were two individuals working the front desk. One was approximately 7 months pregnant and the other was not. The pregnant one was beautiful & kind; she apologized and offered to pop our popcorn in their microwave "upstairs." Before I could demand that the non-pregnant clerk do it, the beautiful & kind one headed off. It was then that I noticed the 100+ well-dressed individuals trying not to look directly at me (at least I still had my bra on). Whatever, people - WE WANT POPCORN. We had ordered Baby Mama and were more than halfway through the movie and past three semi-cranky phone calls to the front desk about the effing microwave. Each time, we spoke with a very gracious hotel representative who assured us that it was "on its way." Well, apparently the microwave was attempting to navigate the elevators and/or stairwells by itself and was not getting very far.
When the beautiful & kind desk clerk brought me my fully popped Walgreens-brand Movie Theater Butter delicacy, I thanked her profusely, and she apologized profusely, then asked if she could comp us anything in the mini-bar? Yes, I said Yes. She told me whatever we wanted, she would take it off the bill. Welllll. A bottle of Chardonnay for moi and a tasty screwdriver (or two) for Jen made the 2-hour wait for cheap fricking popcorn and a PJ-walk-sure-to-be-blogged-by-someone-desperate worth the while.
And now. I am typing and laughing like a lunatic about Saturday Night Live while Jen has passed out in her bed. Good times.
BTW, we decided we really love Greg Kinnear and he should be featured right here:
And then? There were two individuals working the front desk. One was approximately 7 months pregnant and the other was not. The pregnant one was beautiful & kind; she apologized and offered to pop our popcorn in their microwave "upstairs." Before I could demand that the non-pregnant clerk do it, the beautiful & kind one headed off. It was then that I noticed the 100+ well-dressed individuals trying not to look directly at me (at least I still had my bra on). Whatever, people - WE WANT POPCORN. We had ordered Baby Mama and were more than halfway through the movie and past three semi-cranky phone calls to the front desk about the effing microwave. Each time, we spoke with a very gracious hotel representative who assured us that it was "on its way." Well, apparently the microwave was attempting to navigate the elevators and/or stairwells by itself and was not getting very far.
When the beautiful & kind desk clerk brought me my fully popped Walgreens-brand Movie Theater Butter delicacy, I thanked her profusely, and she apologized profusely, then asked if she could comp us anything in the mini-bar? Yes, I said Yes. She told me whatever we wanted, she would take it off the bill. Welllll. A bottle of Chardonnay for moi and a tasty screwdriver (or two) for Jen made the 2-hour wait for cheap fricking popcorn and a PJ-walk-sure-to-be-blogged-by-someone-desperate worth the while.
And now. I am typing and laughing like a lunatic about Saturday Night Live while Jen has passed out in her bed. Good times.
BTW, we decided we really love Greg Kinnear and he should be featured right here:
I have loved you since Talk Soup.
