After my little snooze I was fine for the rest of the trip but pulled into the hotel ready for a little rest. Hoping that no one I knew was checking in at the same time (I was wearing a big comfy t-shirt, capris and flip-flops and I looked every bit like I had just had an 11 hour car trip!) I trudged up to the counter.

The woman behind the desk made her cheery "Welcome!" smile and I wasn't so tired that I tried to slap it off--almost, but not quite. Then she made the face. You know, the face. The one that clearly says, "We have a problem here." But I knew that there couldn't be a problem because I made the reservation in January and confirmed it last week.

Oh wait. The confirmation was the problem. It seems when I called to confirm--they cancelled my reservation. Now I was tired and sore and a bit, just a teensy bit, crabby but I carefully explained to the woman that I would have to be an idiot to drive 11 hours to come out here and make sure that I cancelled a reservation.

Oh look, a manager!

"Gee sorry, but because it's the conference there aren't any rooms at all."

"I know that. That is why I not only made a reservation months ago but confirmed it last week."

I am pretty sure that I was snarling by this point. Well, the nice man in the purple jacket explained that they would put me up in the brand new hotel down the block. And, because I had been planning on meeting people and possibly having a drink or two, they would provide a shuttle. Inconvenient, but ok.

When I checked into the new hotel there was a sign, complete with a smiley face, that said, "Please pardon us as we work out the kinks. The elevators are not in service yet." Uh huh. Of course, you know that they checked me into a room on the top floor.

I dragged all my crap up the stairs, so tired I was almost in tears, and slid the little card key in the door. But wait! This is not the end of the adventures! As I swung the door open I see the floor is littered with beer cans, the bed isn't made, there are full ashtrays everywhere. I call down to the desk and, as calmly as I am capable at this point, tell them that the room is a disaster.

They send someone to carry my things to another floor where they check me into another room. This room? Someone is already checked into! Oh yes, the fun never ends. When I finally got a room I was so afraid they were going to check someone in with me I couldn't sleep.

I was very glad to move over to the nice, big tall hotel with room service and comfy beds even if it was a nuisance to move each night of my stay.

Oh, you want to know about the conference? Sheesh. It was everything that I always want Kzoo to be. I came away with only 3 books--I was very well-behaved this year--and a stack of ideas for papers and/or further study. I got to schmooze with people who inspire me, make me laugh and remind me that while the 18th century is fun for a visit, I am really a Medievalist at heart.

I saw Terry Jones. I am writing a post entitled "How Terry Jones Made Me a Medievalist" or "A Major? I Told "Em We Already Got One" or "The Quest for the Grad Degree" or some such nonsense. It'll be brilliant, witty and entertaining. Honest.

My only disappointment for the trip was that because I am such an introvert at times I didn't get a chance to meet up with some bloggers that I read. I just never delurked in time to let them know I would be there. Next year. Honest.

So now that I am inspired to write on RII and Chaucer and all other things Medieval I have to put that aside and knock out a paper on Jean Rhys and one on Swift by Thursday. Or maybe I will catch up on Tivo a bit first. Just a little. I swear.