My DH and a few of his friends left yesterday and headed down to Augusta, GA for the Masters Tournament. Around 9 p.m. last night he called to let me know he had made it safely and that they had gotten to the hotel. Things didn’t sound good:
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DH: Hey Babe, What’s Up?
Me: Hey Sweetie! Not much, just put the boys to bed. Are you in Augusta?

DH: Sort of, we just got to our Motel. It’s not quite what we expected.
Me: What do you mean?

DH: Shannan, we CANNOT stay here.
Me: What? Why not?

DH: Ok. When we pulled in a minute ago their was a domestic dispute taking place in the parking lot and the guy in the room next to ours is dealing.

Me: Laughing… What? Where are you staying? Who picked this hotel, sorry, motel? (Laughing, not just a little but a lot)

DH: It’s the “Masters Inn”. Its a Motel 6 and it is the most awful place I have ever been. Shannan, when we went in our room there were holes in the bedding and the place wreaked of death.

Me: OMG. What are you going to do? (Laughing still – I am not a good sensitive wife)

DH: Well we are trying to find another hotel but everything is booked because of the Masters! Can you get on the computer and see what you can find and call me back? Shannan – It is awful.

Me: I will see what I can do.
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I know that I should have been more sensitive, but it was pretty funny. I mean I think most of us have been there. I once booked a youth hostel in Chicago online. When I arrived it was less of a youth hostel and more like a shelter for the mentally unstable.

For those of you who know my DH, please know that he is safe and warm in a new hotel tonight far, far away form the Masters Inn.

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