Accommodation

I suppose I haven’t mentioned this before but I’m actually rather fond of hotels. I find them to be exciting little get-aways from the real world. Staying in a hotel, and whatever occasion comes with it, I liken to some kind of escapist fantasy, everything simple stops for a little while and the only things which matter are relaxation, pampering and, hopefully, entertainment.

I tell you this because it emphasises just how bloody disappointed I am now. This place is a fucking mess. Now unfortunately because of various scheduling issues I’m going to be alone in this festering hell-hole for about 6 hours before I can meet with any of my family, not that I’m particularly keen to do that to begin with. Hang on, no, I say ‘alone’, but that’s before I met the huge fuck-off spider living under the bathroom sink.

I’ve named her ‘Charlotte’. Maybe we can share a romantic candlelit fucking dinner tonight.

Or last night, or indeed two nights ago as the case may be by the time I get to post this. Foolishly I had hoped to be able to make use of the Wireless internet that they claim to provide, so I brought my laptop, which I affectionately refer to as ‘The Magic Shitbox’, because it’s a fucking miracle that it even still runs, seriously this piece of shit predates the Cambrian extinction event, I miss my desktop already. Anyway, so I ask for the wireless password and the fuckers charge me £10 for the privaledge. Ten fucking quid? I could buy a month of internet at home for that, but hey, I’m desperate and I have nothing the fuck else to do, so £10 for 6 hours of my life seems like a good idea, right?

Wrong. Fucker won’t connect, and though I loathe the shitbox with every fibre of my being I know that it can’t be responsible because its wireless card is relatively recent, dinosaurs didn’t have widely available Wi-Fi. Good job I have plenty of techno-wizardry up my sleeve, because it takes me an hour of fiddling about with different protocols before I can get it to function, god help any poor, gullible sap with less expertise than me.

Lucky me, however, because it turns out that not only is it borked as hell but it’s also only barely bordering on functional. I try to check my emails, I try to check forums... If I sit F5ing a connection error for 20 minutes the stars align JUST SO and for a brief few moments everything loads, waiting for the next syzygy to occur before it can happen again. Joy of joys.

It’s about this time that I start to hear a constant dripping noise from the bathroom, and Charlotte wasn’t responsible, she has a pathological fear of falling into basins. No, it’s just the shower which has curiously only started dripping an hour after I enter the room. Naturally I’m all up in there being “Imma save water and shit” and foolishly attempt to turn it off, which as I’m sure you can imagine already could only have ended with me turning the dial the wrong way and getting drenched before I can make it stop.

Thankfully I’m so pissed off by this point that the water boils away the moment it touches my skin. Le sigh. I wish I could say I brought it on myself, I wish I could say “you get what you pay for” and brush it off as cheap hotels being shit, but cheap it most certainly is not, the three day stay is setting me back a good week’s wages, and that’s not even including all the crap I’ve had to spend money on for this fiasco of a wedding. Frankly I’m not really at a good point in my life with all manner of shit that has happened to me within the last month or so, so these bloody family obligations are really starting to fracture my own security.

And will the ungrateful bastards care? Will they fuck, only my absence would be noticed, my presence itself is irrelevant.

I despise people.