A couple of months ago, I got an e-mail from my favorite band adding tour dates--and, lo and behold! they would be in Tulsa. Though I had already seen the Hazards of Love concert once in Kansas City, I was eager to go again and to go with friends.
Tulsa isn't far from Fayetteville, definitely doable. And since the concert was on a Sunday, making it to work on Monday was feasible. So I discussed the trip with fellow fans and we purchased tickets and made plans to go eat Indian food (since there's not a bite to be found in Fayetteville).
A couple of weeks ago, two friends commented that they had, perhaps, maybe, lost their tickets. Oh noes! They decided to simply replace them, but it was portentous of the nature of our trip. Nevertheless, we set out to Tulsa on Sunday afternoon in high spirits. I had booked a hotel room for Lance and A and I, since the other three folks were staying with a friend.
We ate delicious Indian food (aloo parathi, saag panneer, biranyi, and dishes I don't remember the names of but consumed with great gusto), then set out to find our hotel. According to Google Maps, it was supposedly near the concert venue. When the navigator followed the GPS directions, however, we found ourselves at a hotel far away from downtown Tulsa. I popped in quickly to check that my reservation wasn't for that location, and the front desk clerk told me that I didn't have a room booked there.
We went to the concert, puzzling about where it could be, and enjoyed the show immensely. It was great--the Decemberists give a fantastic show. We happily poured out of the venue and headed to the car, confident we'd find our beds for the night.
One hour, a frustrated driver (Lance), several phone calls to area hotels, and too many U-turns later, we ended up at the hotel we had stopped at initially, which was NO WHERE NEAR the concert venue.
I was furious, since I had been told that my reservations weren't there. We get into our room, and the stench of stale cigarettes wafts into my nostrils. Apparently, when I exclaimed, "Oh, NONSMOKING, please!" the guy booking my room heard "smoking". Huh.
Since I had to sleep in a room filled with the residue of past cigarettes, I woke up with a horrible headache and a stuffy head, since I'm allergic to cigarettes. And my two compatriots were not much happier. The lessons? Jenn is not allowed to book hotel rooms; you get what you pay for; Google Maps is a LIAR.
We got to go see the Decemberists (again) and had fun, however, and our trip concluded with lunch at a charming Mennonite restaurant in a tiny town near the Oklahoma border. That bread pudding was worth all the trouble of the night before--their food was simple and divine. A good end to our driving adventure.