Our touchdown is rough; the kind that bounces and rattles your bones; wakes you up a bit. Samantha is reading a magazine, I’m looking out the window, thinking about parallels to a Paul Simon tune. We’ve landed in the worst rain in 10 years, our pilot is quick to mention once the skidding has stopped.
The ride from the airport has been pre-arranged. We arrive at the hotel, and with plenty of apologies from the hotel staff, are drenched by the time we make it to the front desk.
“Reservation for Ted Hamilton.”
The woman behind the desk makes no eye contact, simply types away.
“I see. Your room has been upgraded. We’re putting you in the Honeymoon suite instead.”
“The Honeymoon suite? That’s fabulous.” Sam squeezes my arm.
“Does this room,” I put emphasis on the word “room”, “Still have the same view?”
“No! Not at all! This one’s better! Instead of the ocean you look over our lovely courtyard.”
“Yes, we have an excellent courtyard.”
“The courtyard is better than the Ocean? Really?”
“Of course! It’s climate controlled; very modern.”
“How’s this for modern? Say I was planning to jump out the window? Would the courtyard be better for that?”
“Say I wanted some fresh air. Would I get good air in the courtyard?”
“Yes! It’s air conditioned…”
“So I open the window, lean out and am on the courtyard. Is that better?”
We take the keys, Sam starring at me.