Sleepless in Seattle
Last spring I attended a national medical library association conference in Seattle, Washington. A few months before the trip, I was preparing my travel plans and spent a week searching for a cheap hotel before narrowing down to one or two good options. To help cut costs further, I decided to share a room with another librarian. I used a roommate matching service provided by the association, and was matched with Carol, who had already decided on a different hotel. I agreed to go with her choice, though it was far across town and transportation would be an issue.
I started to have very negative vibes about the trip, which I mentioned to a friend at work. I was worried that something bad would happen, and the idea of riding two buses or paying for a cab each way to the conference each day was weighing on me as much as the idea of sharing a room with a complete stranger. Still, I didn't want to try and change the plans so late in the game.
About a week before the trip my husband asked me for the specifics on where I would be staying and my flights. When he saw how far my hotel was from the conference center he started to get really worried. He told me I should change for a closer hotel. Though I agreed with him, I pretended not to--I was so sure I wouldn't find any nearby hotels that weren't already booked and I didn't want to rock the boat with Carol. So he took matters into his own hands and started searching for a different hotel for me. He sent me several options, all of which I called, and all of which were booked. I was ready to tell him to give up when he sent me two more options. I wouldn't have bothered calling, except I noticed that one of the options sounded familiar; I'm not sure if I knew why at that moment, but I eventually realized that it was one of the hotels I had originally chosen. That familiarity was what pushed me to take a second glance--at which point I noticed the address; it was a number I had been using since junior high as a PIN number. And even more significantly, I had recently found out that my parents had been using the same PIN for years for a different reason than I. (By the way, we've all since changed our PINs.)
So, given my trust in synchronicity, I decided that calling was worth a try. A few minutes later, I was told that they didn't have any rooms with two queen beds on the dates requested, but then, something of a miracle, they offered me a double room--two rooms connected by a shared bathroom--for the same price. I quickly called Carol to ask if she would agree paying less for a hotel within walking distance of the conference center, with private bedrooms to boot. Of course she agreed.
Carol and I got along swimmingly--she's a real kindred spirit. On our last day we realized that our flights left within a half hour of each other and that we could share a shuttle to the airport. Then once we arrived at Sea-Tac, we realized that we would be flying out from the same terminal, and good thing, because it happened to be impossible to find. I would have been lost and late had it not been for her. We got to sit together, waiting for our flights, watching a movie on my laptop. Both of our flights were called at about the same time and we lined up at doors right next to each other--she bound for Texas while I was bound for Iowa. What are the chances?
I started to have very negative vibes about the trip, which I mentioned to a friend at work. I was worried that something bad would happen, and the idea of riding two buses or paying for a cab each way to the conference each day was weighing on me as much as the idea of sharing a room with a complete stranger. Still, I didn't want to try and change the plans so late in the game.
About a week before the trip my husband asked me for the specifics on where I would be staying and my flights. When he saw how far my hotel was from the conference center he started to get really worried. He told me I should change for a closer hotel. Though I agreed with him, I pretended not to--I was so sure I wouldn't find any nearby hotels that weren't already booked and I didn't want to rock the boat with Carol. So he took matters into his own hands and started searching for a different hotel for me. He sent me several options, all of which I called, and all of which were booked. I was ready to tell him to give up when he sent me two more options. I wouldn't have bothered calling, except I noticed that one of the options sounded familiar; I'm not sure if I knew why at that moment, but I eventually realized that it was one of the hotels I had originally chosen. That familiarity was what pushed me to take a second glance--at which point I noticed the address; it was a number I had been using since junior high as a PIN number. And even more significantly, I had recently found out that my parents had been using the same PIN for years for a different reason than I. (By the way, we've all since changed our PINs.)
So, given my trust in synchronicity, I decided that calling was worth a try. A few minutes later, I was told that they didn't have any rooms with two queen beds on the dates requested, but then, something of a miracle, they offered me a double room--two rooms connected by a shared bathroom--for the same price. I quickly called Carol to ask if she would agree paying less for a hotel within walking distance of the conference center, with private bedrooms to boot. Of course she agreed.
Carol and I got along swimmingly--she's a real kindred spirit. On our last day we realized that our flights left within a half hour of each other and that we could share a shuttle to the airport. Then once we arrived at Sea-Tac, we realized that we would be flying out from the same terminal, and good thing, because it happened to be impossible to find. I would have been lost and late had it not been for her. We got to sit together, waiting for our flights, watching a movie on my laptop. Both of our flights were called at about the same time and we lined up at doors right next to each other--she bound for Texas while I was bound for Iowa. What are the chances?
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