Now I Know Why The Floor Was Concrete

This might run a little long though I hope you still enjoy it.  Today I’m thankful for my mother’s unflappability.

We visited Reykjavik in 2014.  Our return flight left Keflavik in the afternoon so we landed late in the evening.  We both had an additional flight.  We scheduled a layover long enough that we could get a hotel room and full night’s sleep.

I wanted to find an acceptable hotel offering a free shuttle to the airport the next morning.  Most hotels have shuttles but they can cost as much as a nice dinner.  I eventually found a place with fair reviews, advertising a free shuttle.

A cheerful driver picked us up at the airport.  The hotel concierge greeted us as we walked in, from behind a substantial pane of glass.  We were shown to a very clean room, complete with concrete floor and sturdy deadbolt.  We ordered pizza (actually quite tasty), blocked the door with a chair and had a quiet night.  Our drive to the airport and return flights were uneventful.

It wasn’t until I finally got home and scoured the hotel website that I noticed the discreet mention of “hourly rates.”  I had booked my mother and me into what was essentially a love hotel.  I was mortified.  My mother thought the entire experience was exceedingly funny, and did it all with a broken fibula.  I have to say that everyone at the hotel treated us very kindly, as we were clearly out of place.

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