I'm tired. I'm cranky and I'm hungry. I'm still hungry.
After a nightmare trip to Sydney where our Virgin flight was nearly 3 hours late, we finally arrived at Hotel Urban, our sanity hinging completely on the fact that they had 24 hour room service.
After trudging up to my room, struggling to find the light switch in the dark and then tripping over my bags in my desperation to order dinner - I was flabbergasted when I called Room Service only to be told that the dinner menu finished at 11pm. Oh the Humanity - it was only 11:04pm.
All I wanted was a Club Sandwich with Chips - at this point I would have sold my first born for one - but I was told in no uncertain terms that the only option available was either a Ham, Cheese and Tomato Sandwich or Beef Lasagne. I settled on the H,C&T and politely asked for a side of Chips. No, sorry - these are not available on the late night menu. OMG - I nearly pulled my hair out. Out of sheer desperation for there not to be spit in my sandwich, I ground my teeth and accepted the fact that I was not going to get what I wanted - no matter how simple that request may be.
Unbeknownst to me, the same situation was playing out in my Colleague's room - except he wanted the Steak. No - not available on the late night menu, you can have the sandwich or the Lasagne. Fine, he said - I'll have the Lasagne... only to be told that they had sold out! Fine, he said. Give me the damn sandwich but can I have a side of Chips with it. No, that's not available on the late night menu... *sigh*
I was assured that my Sandwich would be up in a matter of minutes - and rightly so - it's hardly a gourmet creation. So I went about unpacking while I waited, not wanting to be caught in the shower if they were quicker than I expected. So when I was still waiting 40 minutes later - I called Room Service in a huff, only to be told that they were busy and I could expect my sandwich within the next 10 minutes. It doesn't take 10 minutes to make a damn sandwich in the first place!!! *grrrr*
10 minutes later, the door bell rings and an apologetic waiter brandishes the world's smallest sandwich on a white plate and proceeds to tell me that he forgot to take down my Room Number so was waiting patiently for me to call and complain so he would know where to bring it... *bashing head against the wall*
I did my best to civil while my stomach growled louder than his apology and took possession of my precious dinner only to be hideously disappointed. The (untoasted) bread, which had obviously been sitting around for the best part of an hour waiting to be delivered had gone stale, the cheese had congealed under the heat lamps and there was only wafer thin slices of ham holding it all together. The advertised Salad which was meant to accompany my sandwich was MIA, as was my goodwill by this stage.
I miserably ate around the rock hard crusts before raiding the mini bar for a Kitkat to take the edge off my still gnawing hunger and went to bed cursing in words that would make a Sailor blush.