Hotel Security and Other Tales

So.

This past weekend, I went to the Women of Faith conference in Indianapolis. My friend Nita invited me to go (a few months ago) and her sister Ruthie was part of our group, as well as her daughter, Bre.

We stayed here:

Y'all, this is a fancy pants hotel. Fan.cy. Pants.

I knew that going in, but it was solidified when I got on the elevator and discovered you had to scan your room key to be able to punch in the floor you wanted to go to. Seriously.

I'd left the room briefly in the afternoon to take some pictures out a window in the hallway and after fighting with the key card a couple of times, I got back in the room and off I went on my merry way!

That evening, we returned to our hotel after the first round of sessions, and the other three in my party went back up to the room. I stayed in the lobby area to make a phone call and then I went back upstairs too.

When I got on the elevator, a couple other pairs of people were there, and floors were already punched in. I slid my card, punched the 14th floor and waited. The others exited the elevator and a young man (an employee of the hotel, per his little coily cord stretching from his earpiece to his shirt, and his very nice suit) got on. He looked at the unlit board and said to me, "What floor are you on?" I said, "14th, why?" He said, "Let me see your key." I handed it to him and he slid it. Nothing. He slid it again. Nothing. He slid his own and punched the 14th floor, handed my card back to me and said, "You will probably need to get this remade at the desk, ma'am."

1. Don't call me ma'am.

2. Okay. (And I had no intentions of doing so, as I no longer planned to be separated from my party, thankyouverymuch.)

As I stepped off the elevator, he stepped off too. Um, excuse me? Did I ask for company????

He said "What's your room number?"

As if I know. This isn't the Super 8. You didn't write it on my card. So I said, "Ummmm not sure but I know it's the first one past housekeeping."

This is when I knew I was in trouble. "Ma'am I'm sorry but I'm going to need to come with you. Are you a guest in this hotel?"

YES! I HAVE A KEY! DO YOU NOT SEE IT IN MY HAND???????? (Sorry for the attitude. I hadn't had my evening coffee yet. Because the hotel Starbucks was closed at 11 p.m. on a Friday night in the middle of the state capital. But I digress.)

As we made our way toward "the first room past housekeeping" he was already on his walkie talkie. He said to me, "What name is the room under?" I said, "Echelbarger." He called the front desk from outside my hotel room and asked the lady what the name was associated with this room. She said, "Echelbarger."

Toldya.

He said to me, "I'm going to need to see some photo ID."

What is it with me and photo ID????????

To my credit, I DID have it on me this time, so I pulled out that horrific license and showed it to him. He said, "Your name isn't Echelbarger."

I never said it was. You asked me whose name the room was in. Give me a break. You have a hotel full of women here for a Christian conference and you expect each of them to have their name on the room!??!!?!?!?!?!?!

(This would have been a good time for Starbucks to open.)

He said, "I'll need to see hers then."

So, my dear people, at 11:00 on a Friday night, I knocked on the door of my own hotel room, and when Nita answered (in her jammies), she found a bedraggled looking Bekah standing with a hotel employee saying, "Can you just um, grab your driver's license real quick??"

She's never going to take me anywhere again.

And while I appreciate security, I would just like to say, REALLY!?!?!!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!