Good God, is it over yet?

I'm going to try to tear through this. At 2 PM the witch at the desk said they had a room, but our stuff was in storage and no bell hop was there. We waited another 15 minutes for him. The first room had no safe. We called and asked for a safe. Someone came to see if there really was no safe. They went away. We waited and waited. Finally we left the room because, as Joyce said, "If they don't see us, they'll have an excuse to forget us."

We carried our own bags down and told the snooty witch we weren't going to just sit there all day. By now it was almost 3 PM anyway, so we didn't get into a room any sooner than they absolutely had to let us.

They said they had another room. No bell hop again. We said, "Forget it, we can carry our own stuff," and picked it all up and left while they kept saying, "Wait! He is coming!" We knew better.

Got to the second room. Safe included. No air conditioning. We called the front desk and they sent a technico. He told us how to push the right buttons in a certain order (nothing remotely intuitive) to get it on. He left, and we discovered the refrigerator wasn't working. We called to get that fixed. They said "We have no more, but we will bring you something cold whenever you like." We explained the idea is to not have to call, and be dressed, and wait, every single time. We also wanted to cool our own water bottles. They were sorry.

We tried to take a nap. The pillows were so soft so as to be non-existent. We called for more. They brought two more. We told them to bring four more, and showed how you can't get any height with two of their pillows because they collapse and suffocate you by folding over on your face.

After this, we thought we'd like to swim, but Arabs had bought out the whole roof including the pool for the night. Then Joyce wanted to walk all the way down to the restaurant district, and I didn't. We didn't want to order room service because were sure it would be like all their other "service" thus far. We didn't want to even eat in their restaurant because we were having an awful time. Joyce agreed to walk to the nearest restaurant no matter what it was. We ended up half a mile away again, because that's as close as they are. The train station had restaurants, but that wouldn't do. The train station had a grocery store where we could have bought our own food, but that wouldn't do. She had to eat in a sidewalk cafe. The fact that I had a blister the size of Monaco on my instep (and had had it since Barcelona) didn't matter.

See how pissed I'm getting? I probably shouldn't even publish this. I'm getting all upset as if it were yesterday. This is a bad idea. But since there is a sort of a semi-happy ending to this, I will put it in here, and eventually I will get to write about that, too.

Radisson BLU closet.