Hotel madness

I arrived back in Saigon a couple weeks ago. It was after midnight. I actually thought ahead and phoned in a reservation earlier that day. It was at a hotel I frequented earlier in my trip. The $5 room was taken so I took the bigger room for twice the price. It sufficed. After enjoying the luxury of air conditioning and twice the space, I never took up the option of downgrading to the $5 room.

I would be in need of a room for a month since I am taking a four-week course. They gave me the option of $250 for the month instead of a daily rate of $10. I naturally couldn't decide and looked around in quieter neighborhoods away from the hordes of backpackers. They were unfortunately all full. And so, I stayed on. The people at my hotel were nice enough and it was centrally located to pretty much anything I needed.

After a few days, I tired of walking up the narrow steps to C2, my room on the third floor. And I tired of having two twin beds instead of one big one. So, they gave me A2. This was nice. Just a short jaunt up the stairs and I was home. But a new set of problems emerged. I could hear activity in the lobby, which only compounded my perpetual state of agitation. And more importantly, I had an old air conditioner that shook, rattled and blew with such furor that I couldn't sleep without an ear plug in the one ear that wasn't against my pillow.

So, after a week, I asked to switch rooms again. B2 became available and I moved my shit upstairs. I figured the third time would be a charm. I was wrong. The place reeked of cigarette smoke. Its intensity didn't dissipate until I woke every morning in the artificially cool air. Speaking of which, it took all night to cool that room. The air conditioner was a huge, steaming piece of shit. It blew cold air so slowly that I hardly knew it was on. Unless maybe if I went outside.

At this point in my residence at the Tan 58 Hotel, I didn't care anymore. I was tired of moving around and decided to stay there for a couple more weeks. Primarily to save money, but also to stop fucking around and wasting time. The hotel staff, comprised of young folks working at the travel agency downstairs, were all nice to me and that accounted for something too.

Well, one of them was a bitch. She told me yesterday that my "month of occupancy" started when I switched to B2, which means I'd have to stay at the hovel for nearly another month instead of the two weeks I anticipated. It made sense since I hadn't officially decided to stay until recently, but funk that. I thought they would allow me some time to think about it. I was wrong.

I told her I would check out tomorrow. She said it was up to me. I said again, I'm checking out tomorrow. I found new digs a few doors down. A better, cheaper place. I went to the ATM, paid the skank (that's how I felt at the time) and went about business as usual. This morning, I checked out as promised. And it felt good too.