Sherpa's mom made her way through the nameless tourists and to the counter, a long golden block of stations and carefully smiling clerks.
"Yes ma'am, may I help you?"
Barbara dug in her purse, talking to it. "Uh, yeah, I have a reservation, under. Wait. Uh, 'McIntyre' for two." She grubbed open her wallet and after some peering and shuffling of plastic, slidout a driver's license and credit card and put them on the marble counter. She glanced at them again as the clerk swept across to take them.
More quickly than one might expect, Barbara slapped her meaty hand down over the two cards and muttered at the counter, "Sorry, wrong card."
The clerk barely missed touching the back of her hand, and retreated ever so slightly his lips curving upward in a rictus. "That's quite alright, ma'am."
Not uncovering the cards, Barbara slid them off and into the purse's giant cavity. Then dug back into her wallet, pulling out two more cards and squinted carefully at them both. "Here, these are them." She again slid a driver's license and credit card across the counter.
The clerk waited, wary, then collected the cards and laid them nearer his console. "Let's see, Mrs. McIntyre . . ." His fingers fluttered across the console's keys. "Yes, we have you down here for a pyramid spa suite." he stalled for a moment. "Well," he continued brightly, "It looks like you are eligible for an upgrade to one of our tower suites. how does that sound, Mrs. McIntyre?"
Barbara gripped her purse and stared at the counter where her cards had been, "No, I need, I just want the pyramid suite, that's all." She could feel the sweat starting to collect around her waistband.
"Ah, yes, I understand." His hands fluttered again. "but did you know that the but the tower suite also comes with an upgrade package? Champagne and a fruit basket plus . . . complimentary tickets to the Criss Angel show?"
A chuckled grunt rose out of Barbara at the mention of Angel's name. She would worry about that imposter later. "I just want my original room, please."
"I understand. One moment ma'am, I'll be right back." Without lifting her head much, Barbara was able to slew her eyes and track the clerk as he stepped away from his console and clipped away toward a woman at one end. Once there, they leaned in together over another screen, gesturing and typing and alternately shaking and nodding their heads until at last they both walked back down the length of the counter to where Barbara waited.
"I'm sorry for the wait, Mrs. McIntyre," said the woman, "My name is Deb and I'm happy to assist you in whatever way possible."
Barbara felt the slick wet building between her arms and torso. This wasn't working. She just wanted to check in.
"We seem to have made an error in your reservation, but we are happy to upgrade your room to something in one of the towers and provide a generation compensation package for you . . . "
"I need a spa suite in the pyramid. Not in the tower. What do I need to do to get a spa suite in the tower?"
"Well, we don't have any currently available. Unless there is a cancellation, of course. We can put you on a standby list, but I must tell you it is unlikely . . ."
A solution had presented itself. Barbara glanced up at the pair briefly, then lowered her eyes again. "Put me on standby. I think there will probably be a cancellation." Then, with uncharacteristic flair, "I'm feeling lucky."
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