So after our new flight was straightened out we got ourselves a hotel, at the Sandalwood Suites. We had to go down to get the shuttle, but not before we had to shlep to the baggage carousel and grab the luggage that actually was supposed to get to Switzerland. Luckily, the airport told us that the luggage will be travelling with us tomorrow because we were booked on the same flight.
That would be the last good break we would have for the next seven hours.
So we went out to the part of the sidewalk just out the terminal where the shuttle would take us to the hotel and we waited. And waited. And waited. Boy, these guys are busy!
There were shuttles coming in from everywhere except for our hotel. We started to veer away from our appointed hotel shuttle pick-up spot; Mother made me walk down to this large, nondescript white van. It didn't say "Sandalwood Suites" on its side; it said something else. But in our frustration I decided to ask this driver, a South Asian man with a Blackberry attached to his ear, if he could take us anyway. He said yes ... but after I motioned to my parents to get our things, he said, "It'll cost you $16." Now, I could have been wrong, but I swear that this shuttle was complimentary. It is Canada, but I think we're owed a free trip to the hotel. So I pushed my 'Rents away, apologized to the driver, and sent him on his way.
He didn't go anywhere but up to where my folks were and stopped there. Was it a way to tempt, or even goad, us? But soon a couple boarded his van. Didn't know if they were able to board for free or if they were just willing to pay.
After he took off we waited some more. A lot more. My folks got so frustrated that we went inside, found a payphone and called the hotel. No answer.
We go back outside and wait some more. Then, finally! we see a white van with the Sandlewood Suites logo on its side. Fuckin' A. So I call them over so we can finally get to our hotel room.
But then I see the driver. It's the same fucking South Asian I shooed away the first time! He just switched hotel signs on the side of his car and came back to the airport to try and trick me into getting in the van. Did he actually think that would work? Can people do that in Canada?
So I had to ask him if we still had to pay him $16 even though he now "is" the shuttle for the Sandalwood Suites? He says, and I might be paraphrasing, "It's free until 10 p.m., and since it's after 10 p.m., it costs you $16." I could feel the pressure sell. And we were dead tired. But what he said felt like bullshit. And I still don't want to get screwed. So I shooed him away again: "Go. That's fine. Leave." And we wait, principles intact. Meanwhile, like he did the first time, he moseyed up several yards, right in front of where my parents were standing. He kept the car running. And the exhaust pipe was directly in front of them. I stood nearby my folks, and I have to tell you, the exhaust was nauseating. I swear that asshole driver was doing that to us on purpose, trying to piss us off.
We waited for, oh, about an hour, maybe 90 minutes. My parents insist it was two hours. It only felt that long. But after a lot more pressing by them -- seriously, I could have stayed out there all night so long as I didn't have to pay -- we went back inside. I called the hotel on the payphone again and asked them if I really had to pay $16 to get a ride. The man, with a deep African or Caribbean accent, said that is absolutely true. And I was even more resolute to not pay because I immediately thought he was also trying to fuck with me.
---
We went back out, maybe, I don't remember. But my parents just got fed up and we went upstairs back up to the Air Canada desk where we got the hotel voucher. But it was so late, that window closed. So we we were told to go back downstairs to the ground floor, right where we had past this huge queue of people. I thought those were folks that needed to leave. I guess they were getting hotel vouchers for a room after missing their flights ... like us.
I still tried to remain patient in getting a resolution for this, but my folks, understandably tired, kept trying to force me to get something done. Not my style, guys. But there was an Air Canada representative standing out in the middle of the hallway, away from the huge line of people, fielding questions from other people stranded like we were. Mother and Father finally had someone to yell at, a focus for their anger.
Father was too fatigued to stand up. Mother at first tried to push me into the middle of a conversation this rep was having with these people, and after I refused, she took the hotel vouchers we were already given, sidled up to her, and started to talk very loudly about how we've had to wait for two hours (again, exaggerating, though not by much) to get a hotel.
I felt sorry for the Air Canada rep. She was beset by the group before us, and then another group, led by an Indian woman in a sari, also yelling at her. (I must admit that my sympathies for her may stem from the fact that she was kind of cute.) As Mother kept interrupting her trying to ask questions, she finally resorted to, "Please stop yelling at me." I would've stopped at that moment of Canadian modesty. But this is Mother. She continued to yell. But she did get a result; the rep walked away, went to the service counter and, even though there were hundreds of other people waiting to be served, she came back out to see us.
What she gave us was ... a free limo voucher. Instead of waiting for a shuttle, she told us to wait somewhere else and get picked up by a limo; it would take us to the Sandalwood Suites. Mother and Father (who was so beaten down that all he could do was yell from a chair) was convinced that the problem was the hotel. I didn't think so, and besides, this was the best Air Canada Girl could, or would, do. There was so many other people needing help and that was all she was going to give us, so I started to make my way up to where these limos are. I don't know if my parents were convinced; either way, we all started to go up the escalator to the waiting place for these limos.
---
Now this is different, limos taking us to hotels. There are two kinds of limos in Canada, apparently: Your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, rich people limousines, and "airport" limos. The latter, which has a "Airport" or "Airline" decal on its front windshield (I guess it's the law -- God bless Canadian regulations!), seems to have agreed to take nominal fees from the airport in exchange for the steady business of shuttling weary travellers to hotels in style for the night, and with no expectation of a tip (I think). I'm pretty sure the seats of our limo were dried and cracked, but hey, it's a limo. And we finally reached the fucking Sandalwood Suites.
We go the front desk where the guy, who I'm sure is the same person who was fucking with me over the phone, was. I give him the hotel voucher which assured us two rooms. But after staring blankly at his screen and looking at a paper, he said there were no more rooms available. What??? This was another chance for this motherfucker to screw with me.
(Aside 1: This is My Fucking Mother at her worst. She started yelling at the guy. He said there was one room available, smoking. They didn't like it. There was another girl that was waiting behind me. She asked that, if we didn't want the room, if she could take it. When I offered, Mother first shushed me. And when I reminded her she said we didn't want it, she started yelling at me, ending her rant with, "You know, you're not really acting like a man right now." Whatever, cunt. Goddamn, I hate it when she calls me effeminate. This is why I dream of getting fucked in the ass by a woman with a strap-on, Mother!)
(Aside 2: I saw that Indian motherfucker who tried to make us pay to get a trip to the hotel. He was going back to the airport to get more fares. Why? There's no room in the inn. Thank Buddha I stuck to my guns and didn't pay him, otherwise we would've shelled out $48 for absolutely nothing. The son-of-a-bitch didn't even have the balls to look me in the face while he was at the front desk. Bastard.)
I let Mother wear the pants on this one; eventually, she always wears the pants in the family. In the meantime I took advantage of the only fucking thing that was operating correctly in the Sandalwood Suites: The Internet. My sister needed to know what the fuck was going on. More on this in my next blog post, I think.
I was called by Mother; while I was e-mailing my sis, the hotel guy got a van. Finished sending my message just in time. The van was carrying us and two other groups. I actually thought they were taking us to another hotel that might have rooms. But even though he gave us a choice, the driver of this shuttle thought it best to go back to the airport instead of going on a wild goose chase.
---
What happens next is burned into my memory. This is just like the time I saw Father physically abuse Mother when she wanted to leave the house. And whenever they lecture me on my temper, I hopefully will bring this up, and hopefully this will shut them up.
We were dumped back at the airport, exactly where the hotel shuttles were supposed to pick us up. Maybe Air Canada people are still there, we thought, so back in the airport terminal we went.
There, there was a woman walking away from us, about half a football field away. I could recognize the long, free-flowing blonde hair from behind: It was the Air Canada representative that gave us the limo voucher.
To Mother, it was like seeing a matador flick his red cape. She blamed this Run-Around From Hell we were going through the past three hours on her -- not the airport authorities, not the asshole shuttle driver, not the prick at the hotel, her. That's what I hate about her; she disproportionately hates women, particularly young girls. I've seen it, I know it.
Once she saw her, I see Mother immediately run after her, like a cheetah trying to chase down an antelope. I've never seen her run before. Actually, I've never seen anyone "run" the way Mother did. She had her backpack on, and she wasn't holding onto the straps. Plus, she was sort of bouncing up and down as she was running, so all I could see was this woman kind of pogoing down the airport hallway, backpack jumping on her shoulders the whole time. It's a very funny image; it just wasn't at the time because we were still looking for a comfortable bed in a quiet area.
What she didn't choose to see in her haste -- and temper -- is that she ran past the service counter where all those people were lined up, and there were still a couple of Air Canada people there. I walked up to them and explained our situation as I saw Mother gamboling down the hall. I actually thought I should've went after her first, lest she do anything stupid, like slap the woman who "helped" us. Mother's a violent woman, she would do such a thing, I know it. Meanwhile, Father was no fucking help; when the Air Canada guy started doodling on his computer, he just leaned on the counter next to us and said nothing. So, after a minute, I decided to excuse myself and run like hell down the corridor to prevent Mother from getting arrested. Then we definitely wouldn't've make it to my sister's wedding.
I got to the end of the hall, which made a left turn and ended at a bank of elevators. When I turned the corner I saw Mother slowly walk back towards me. No sign of Air Canada Girl.
"What did you do??" I asked her, loudly.
"I yelled at her," she replied.
"Is that it?" I shot back, "You didn't hit her or anything?"
"No! I just wanted to tell her you made us go to this hotel and they were all booked up." That'd damn well better be the only thing she did.
Swear to fucking God, these two are the goddamn reasons why I have a temper. Why in the fuck should I control mine if they won't control theirs?
The great thing about the Air Canada rep we got this time was that he was Chinese. He started speaking it, and it seemed as if My Father immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Also, he got things done. He did say that all shuttles were free, and that the Sandalwood Suites should not be charging anybody any money at any time of night. I knew it!!! And then he gave us a brand new voucher to another hotel that he said he knew had rooms available, the local Hilton. I was helpless and desperate: "Are you sure they have rooms available?"
"If they didn't have rooms available, I wouldn't give you this voucher," he said. And then he walked away without saying goodbye. Was I being rude? Dude, I was only tired. I thought Canadians were nicer than this.
---
Anyway, we went back outside to wait, and thankfully, it was a couple minutes, maybe less, when the Hilton shuttle came by. We got in (for free), and we were taken to this really swanky-looking, well-appointed hotel -- in other words, what you'd expect from a Hilton. And everybody was nice and, above all, professional. The girl who checked us in, Ilona, got us everything we needed -- keys, free food vouchers, everything -- with minimum guff. And she was hot, too!
Even better, the room I got for myself was not only on a different floor from the 'Rents', it was in a totally different tower. Good! I need the distance to get the fuck away from them!! Now!!! Best of all was the hotel room itself. My God, this was heaven, and well worth the hell we were put through. I had a living room. I had not one but two closets. My TV was a flat-screen ... and it could swivel 180 degrees so I could see it either from the living room or from my bed. Greatest. Hotel Room. Ever. (The Old Folks' wasn't bad, either; in fact, they had two TV's.)
So at least our night finished on a high note, even if it went too long, even if it wasn't spent on the continent we planned on being in. In short: If you're ever stuck in Toronto, and even if you need a place to stay in the T.O., I highly recommend the Hilton Toronto Airport Hotel & Suites (and hopefully Ilona is there!). And I suggest you stay clear the fuck away from the Sandalwood Suites. I would give you a link, but theirs doesn't fucking work. Figures.
The night finished on a high note, but that didn't mean my night was over. To Be Continued. ...
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