A Series of Unfortunate Events

Thursday morning I flew to Spokane, as I previously mentioned. When I arrived at 12:35 I immediately called the Holiday Inn Express and told them I was ready for the shuttle to come pick me up. Luggage in hand, I sat outside baggage claim for forty five minutes. During that time I tried to convince myself that the hotel was farther away from the airport than I calculated or that traffic must be really bad because it was lunchtime. But after forty five minutes I figured I was safe to check on the shuttle without coming across as a huge bitch.
"Holiday Inn Express. This is Sarah, how may I help you?"
"Yes, I called for a shuttle forty five minutes ago and I was wondering if there has been a delay of some sort?"
"Um. Uh, do you remember who you spoke with?"
"Her name was Jenna."
"Great, thanks. May I put you on hold?" "It seems Jenna didn't tell anyone you were waiting."
"Okay, so what about Paul? I called him this morning to tell him my arrival time and confirm a reservation for the shuttle?"
"Oh, well. Uh, I'll leave to come get you right now."
So I wait. Another thirty minutes go by before I see the Holiday Inn Express shuttle. But as the shuttle approaches and I try to wave it down, it drives right past me. Finally, it slows down at the end of the loading zone and as I run to catch it I notice that the woman is on the phone - calling the hotel for my number. I have to knock on the passenger window for her to even notice that I'm there and even then she doesn't move. She signals for me to jump in the back.
"Oh good. I thought maybe you'd found another ride and I missed you."
"Nope. I was standing right where I told you I'd be."
"Yeah, well it's really busy back there. I didn't see you." (looking back to find 3 other people on the sidewalk)
So I hop in the back, carrying my own luggage, and spend the next ten minutes trying to avoid every question she throws at me in an attempt to calm me down. By the time we got to the hotel I was more upset than I'd been all morning because she continued to make excuse after excuse and never once apologized.
As she pulls up to the front door, I get out, get my own luggage and walk into the hotel. Paul is there with a key and a lack of apology. I finally reach the hotel room and greet my sisters only to walk into a boardroom. Beyond the entrance was a minibar and a large administrative desk. The "suite" also included two queen beds and a bathroom but there was no sight of a kitchenette or a couch, as requested during the reservation.
Frustrated and hungry, we walked across the street to have lunch and decided we should do something about our room. Jill called the front desk and asked to speak with a manager. But of course there wasn't a manager on duty. So she left a message explaining our situation. When she hung up we all joked about how it's too late to get the room we requested anyway because the hotel is full.
Jill spent the next thirty minutes on the phone with Expedia - talking to the dumbest person on their payroll and finally reserved a room at the Red Lion just down the street. Then we went back to the HIE, packed up and checked out. At that point they offered us fifty percent off our stay but we'd had enough.
We drove down the street to check in at the Red Lion only to find we'd been given a room overlooking the parking lot instead of a river front room. Luckily for the Red Lion, they did have a manager on duty and he was more than happy to help Jill resolve the issue and walk Jill around to show her some alternate rooms.
In the meantime, Laurie and I drove to the arena to pick up our Keith Urban tickets at will-call but the window didn't open until 5:00. It was 4:05. Instead of heading back to the hotel, we tracked down a liquor store and bought a bottle of vodka and a savignon blanc. We pulled up to the hotel just as Jill picked up the keys to our new room and as soon as the bell-hop left, we went straight for the bottles.
Vodka was poured for Laurie and Jill and I tried to open the wine. But in the spirit of the day - it wouldn't open. We tried everything. At one point Jill was holding the bottle opener in the cork at one end and I was pulling on the bottle at the other. We tried shoving a straw through, hoping to make a hole and even broke my tweezers in an attempt to dig the cork out. Nothing worked. We would later return the bottle for another one that went unopened.
Luckily for us, the day looked up from there (although, that could be the vodka talking). We finally had a roof over our heads and we were together.