I have two degrees. I run my own business. I have five god children. These things might indicate that I am responsible and have my act together. And I do. Most of the time. Except for today, when somehow I lost my house keys. In Florida. I returned home to find myself locked out of my house.
Solution #1: I keep a spare key to my house in my office – and spare office keys in a little lock thingie accessible from outside for just those moments when I forget my keys.
Failed solution #1: I can get in to my office but can’t find my spare house key.
Solution #2: I call my amazing landlord (whom I have called in this situation only twice in the past five years). He has a key to my house of course.
Failed solution #2: Two calls and one text message later, no response.
Solution #3: I check in to a hotel. I live my life on the road, after all, it is only slightly funny that tonight I have to stay in a hotel in my hometown.
Being a creature of habit, I won’t go far from home – i.e. not far out of Georgetown. I make a few calls. I figure since this is such last minute, I might talk myself into a sweet deal at a nice hotel. After all, if I am to stay in a hotel tonight, it might as well be a nice on.
Ritz-Carlton on South Street is the first call I make. This is where my parents stay when they come to town. So I figured I should stay there too. They have availability, but it does seem a bit extravagant. I talk myself into calling the Capella. After all, if extravagant it is, then extravagant it might as well be. Luckily, the universe helps me see that spending $700 on a hotel six blocks from my house is just too extravagant. I call three times, and three times T-Mobile drops the call, despite 4 bars. The Park Hyatt is next. Perhaps my favorite hotel in DC, I know their bar for the best cheese plate in DC. Guess what – they are sold out. Good for them.
Fourth and lucky. Hotel Palomar. Kimpton hotels are always a preferred choice when on the road, why not here? They are not extravagant, and they are not sold out. Candice is lovely at check-in. I tell her I live four blocks away, she laughs, and gives me a cocktail coupon for the bar. Conclusion: one Manhattan, and a couple episodes of Sex and the City later, I figure that losing my keys is not all bad.