This translation has been automatically generated and has not been verified for accuracy.First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines atWe checked into our room around 11 a.m. We were not in town on business nor did we just get off an early flight. Winnipeg’s Fort Garry Hotel was only a five-minute drive from our two-bedroom apartment in St. Boniface and we had absolutely nothing to celebrate. We just wanted to get away.
Our room was only a couple storeys up and the view looked out onto a beige brick wall. After our dramatic entrance through the lobby with its shiny floors and grand chandeliers, the bleak scene from our window brought us back to reality. No, you’re not at the Plaza in New York City, but keep pretending. And it’s just what you get for the “best available rate” on booking.com.
I ordered a cosmopolitan and Zac chartered new territory with a martini, which he quickly realized was a lot of gin in a dainty glass. We spent the afternoon ordering cocktail after cocktail while predicting the lives of the people around us. We drank up a hefty bill and since we were on vacation, we decided to just charge it to the room. We wrote down #213, signed our initials and went to find some dinner.
“Welcome back, Miss Cardy,” a server said as she sat us at a small table near the piano. Zac and I locked eyes in surprise. She knew my name? He slid a new invoice across the counter, the total now reading $119.45, the room price for our one-night stay. The bar charges were gone, as if they had never happened.
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