1. I was going over our Europe trip itinerary last night and LO AND BEHOLD, discovered we don’t have a hotel yet in Amsterdam. Thunk (that’s my head hitting the desk). Good thing I discovered this now instead of when we arrived there.
2. It’s not hard to book a hotel. Unless you’re me. Because I always choose the worst places. I’ve ended up in dangerous neighborhoods (ala the Mister’s and my 1994 trip to Atlanta, where we were just one street shy of Skid Row), or non-existent hotels (a 1993 business trip to Dallas–who’da thunk there’d be so many Holiday Inns in Dallas? how was I supposed to know which one to pick?–our entire office’s sales team was relegated to the Hotel Grassy Knoll after that snafu), and even a haunted hotel in Phoenix. At least I was by myself then, which, at the time, was not reassuring at all.
3. I struggle with hotels because I want something interesting, not just a box room that looks the same as every other box room in every other city.
4. Hotel booking sites and their infernal reviews are not helpful in the least. No one is ever 100% pleased with their hotel. Ever.
5. The Mister put me out of hotel booking misery for this trip and picked all the other hotels (I don’t know how Amsterdam went unforgotten). Now it’s my turn to pick up the slack. But why Amsterdam? Too many options. Inn? B&B? Little hotel? Chain hotel? Houseboat? I really want to stay on a houseboat! That’s unique! Can’t ever do that here in the US. But with my luck, I’d pick one that leaks, or even worse, sinks!
6. Now I know how I’ll be spending my weekend–staring a tiny thumbnail images, pouring over reviews, clicking back and forth between maps…
oh, dear Lord, keep me away from rickety, haunted boats on dangerous canals…just this once give me good hotel booking karma.