|Miss St. Louis looks TICKED.
We arrived at the historic hotel late at night. When my husband pulled back the sheets later, HE FOUND A BED BUG. Because I truly do love this hotel and believe MOST of the rooms likely are bed bug-free, I am not going to say the name of it. I am not trying to bash the hotel. I’m just saying…
WE FOUND A STINKIN’ BED BUG!
We immediately put our regular clothes back on and called down to the main desk. They came up and looked at the bed bug we contained under a glass. We trapped him like a criminal. “You will PAY bed bug! I already put my toothpaste by the sink! We have clothes on hangers in that closet and, because of you, we have to move!”, we yelled. I think I heard the bed bug yell back something like, “It’s not my fault! I was brought in on Mr. Bumbledorf’s suitcase! I was just in Ohio last night and here I am in this new place! I have no family, no money…” It was difficult to make out JUST what he said because his voice was extremely high-pitched. Also, I walked away in disgust after a few minutes.
Once the manager knocked on the door and I ran away from it emphatically mouthing, “YOU ANSWER IT!” to my husband, he peered into the glass. He really didn’t appear too shocked, which is telling. He gave us a key to a new room on another floor. We debated whether or not to leave the hotel, but it was really late at that point and I wanted to say there, dagnabbit! I was looking forward to the brunch the next day where I had visions of stuffing King Crab legs and soup in my pockets, rolls in my purse and a bunch of grapes draped over my shoulder in an effort to be the most efficient buffet consumer ever.
After wiping away tears over the ocean-view-with-a-dash-of-large-roof-covered-with-the-added-bonus-of-a-gigantic-air-conditioner we were losing, we found our new room on the 6th floor. This room was actually meant for a Mr. & Mrs. Morton. I’m not sure if they were getting married there that weekend or something, because there were 8 chocolated covered strawberries waiting for them on a Saran-wrapped plate and a bottle of Martinelli’s sparkling apple cider. My husband said they weren’t getting married, because where were they? It was 11:30 or so at that point and they still weren’t there. I told them they were down at their reception still. He thinks they just didn’t show up to the hotel. After we hashed all of that out complete with a visit from 92-year-old Judge Wapner to help us settle the case, who was a bit agitated that we woke him up over something he considered so trivial, we ate all of the strawberries and drank that cider within 10 minutes. Chocolate was in my eyebrows from eating those strawberries so fast. The apple cider was even dripping off of my eyelashes.
So, in the end, I was grateful for that bed bug. If he had been little bigger (and not dead), I would have gone back to our old room and given it a hug.