So, finally and by way of Denmark, we made our way into Vilnius. Early, early Saturday morning we busted up into the Radisson (OF COURSE!) and attempted to check in. I had told my mom to call before Cracola and I got there and confirm our reservation because we would be getting there so late. Phones in Eastern Europe being what they are, I never knew what had happened with that.
But anyways, we got to the Radisson, looking and smelling like hobos and only 12 hours late for our check in. Ignatus, our cold but helpful concierge, looked at us and couldn’t believe we had a reservation at his nice hotel.
Which was funny, because according to his computer we didn’t.
So I had to hop on his computer, print out the Expedia receipt and prove to him that I did pay for the room and that I had a reservation.
Still nothing in the computer. No reservation. No room. No nothing.
He hands me the phone and says call Expedia. 1-800-EXPEDIA.
Surfer Bob answers and says, “Dude, what is up?”
“DUDE IF YOU DO NOT TELL THIS MAN THAT I HAVE A RESERVATION THEN I WILL BE FORCED TO SLEEP ON THE STREETS OF VILNIUS TONIGHT.”
“Whoa man, just give him the reservation number.”
“I ALREADY GAVE HIM THE NUMBER.”
“Well, give it to him again or something.”
“NO, YOU TALK TO HIM BECAUSE I CANNOT TALK TO HIM OR YOU ANYMORE!!!!!”
I gave the phone back to Ignatus and let him sort it out. Surfer Bob promised to fax him the secret Expedia confirmation. In the meantime, Ignatus was preparing a key for us because our stench was attracting flies into his opulent lobby.
“I am sorry girls, there is only one room left in the hotel tonight. It is the penthouse.”
Rock on.
The room was awesome, even by American standards. We had a balcony overlooking the city, robes and slippers and a bar of soaps and shampoos in the bathroom. Mmmm green apple shampoo in the penthouse.
Anyways, we hadn’t been up there 15 minutes before my mother called.
“Oh thank God you are there!”
“Yeah can you believe those assholes lost our reservation? I mean really, mother.”
Cue hilarious laughter from my dear mother.
“They didn’t lose your reservation. The reservation was under Cracola’s name. When I called before, the nice gentleman at the front desk said “Hello, Radisson” and then said it in Lithuanian…”
“What? Why would it be in Cracola’s name????”
“Shut up. Anyways, I said, I…need…someone…who…speaks…English and then he said, exactly the same, I…am…speaking…English.”
“Really mother, they’re Lithuanian, not retarded.”
“Hush. So he couldn’t find the reservation and he looked and looked and then someone else looked who finally asked if it could be under a different name. So we tried Cracola’s and there it was.”
I didn’t even think to have Ignatus try Cracola’s name. Not for one second. It didn’t occur to Cracola to speak up either. But whatever, all’s well that ends well, and Cracola and I were penthouse pets for the weekend.
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