Carter
Even though it’s seven p.m., I show up at San Esteban Suites amid absolute chaos. What seems like a thousand people are crammed into the lobby, at least three quarters of them wearing bright costumes.
It takes me far too long to reach the front desk, where a harried-looking woman asks for my name and reservation number. Once I supply them, she types the info into the computer.
“Oh, dear,” she says, her eyes widening. “There’s been a mistake.”
Sometimes I really f*****g hate passive language. “Whose mistake? Who made the mistake?”
She gulps. “We made the mistake, sir. We double-booked your room. There’s a convention this week, and…we don’t have any other rooms. Let me call some nearby hotels for you and see if I can find you other accommodations.” Handing me a small card, she sa
