Delta Chelsea Hotel Toronto
I checked into my hotel in Toronto, the Delta Chelsea, around 11PM. With the name "Delta" in it, I should have known there was going to be trouble.
I had a pleasant enough experience checking in. Nice girls. Good banter. Got my key and headed up the red elevators to the deluxe room I had reserved.
Go up, key doesn't work, head down.
They run my key through again but it was just doing what they did before. Same keys put in the slot. I think I heard someone in the room but wasn't sure so I say nothing.
I head back up. Now I am getting a little frustrated and my good mood is leaving.
Keys of course don't work. Not a surprise.
I head back down.
I tell the SAME person that it still doesn't work, and that I think I heard someone in the room. She looks at me like I have blood dripping from my ears and tells me no one is in the room. She tells me to go back up and wait for maintenance.
I go back up. And wait. Wait. I use the phone by the elevator to call down and say that I am pretty sure there is someone in the room. The same girl tells me that I am wrong. Ok, I say, you are the one in charge. Please send up maintenance or I am going to scare people as they get off the elevator.
10 minutes later to maintenance guys come up. They try their own key after of course trying mine. They both look at each other with a look that said "I ain't opening that door".
They use their walkie talkie to call the same freakin girl who is making my life miserable to tell them that their own key indicates the room is occupied. The brainless twit downstairs tells THEM that they are wrong.
I tell the guy to knock on the door, it's only 11:30PM. I'm awake. Knock.
He knocks, and someone opens the door. The maintenance guy in broken English apologizes.
I head back down, for the third time.
I am calm because I am too exhausted to be worked up. I am pissed.
The girl looks so confused as she stairs at the computer screen that I feel bad. Kind of like when I ask Emily, our 4 year old, a question I know she cannot possible have an answer to, like "who won the 1990 World Series". I suddenly have pity for this dolt.
She goes into the back room and leaves me standing there, watching an unusually crowed and lively lobby, pass by. I try to fall asleep standing up, briefcase and travel bag, suit on, tie still clasped tight to my neck a habit my father taught me.
After a long time she comes out, and still looks perplexed. This entire time she was trying to uncover the mystery of the occupied room and not working on getting me a new room.
I tell her I have to go beddy buy night night sleepy so PLEASE GIVE ME A G*DD**N FREAKIN ROOM FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.
She tells me she cannot give me the deluxe room I had a reservation for, but can downgrade me to a standard room. Hmm. Let me think. Wait 45 minutes and end up with a worse room. Hmm?? Thinking...sounds good but NO!!!!
I have no choice. She doesn't budge. Nada. Like talking to a cop after a ticket is written.
I go into my dive of a room with light bulbs that are out and stains on the carpet and a musty smell and small TV and nothing on the walls and feel dejected but as soon as I enter the bathroom I see expensive toiletries that have a nostalgic smell that brings back a GREAT memory that I cannot exactly pin point and I feel better.
I might sleep in the bathroom.
Delta Chelsea Toronto, this is my first and last two night stay with you. Quick and not fun, it was not meant to be.