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*This is the first in a series of posts chronicling our recent Family trip to Washington, DC. 

When we first decided to take a mini-Spring Break trip to Washington, DC, we decided to cash in some of Sloan’s hotel points from all his hard working time on the road so that we’d have a free hotel stay.  There were some parameters we would have to follow to use the points.  And we had some requirements as well—it had to be an interior room hotel, within walking (with a double stroller) distance to a Metro station, and a two room suite (so we didn’t have to go to bed at 7:30).  Sloan explained all of this to the points person on the phone who set up our reservation about a month ago, and Sloan had called earlier in the week (at my request) to see if the suite included a refrigerator.  We seemed good to go staying at a hotel in College Park, MD.  When I asked last week if the hotel had an indoor pool, Sloan seemed like I was not appreciating the free hotel he had booked for us and may or may not have accused me of being a snob while simultaneously giving me a lecture about the grossness of business hotel indoor pools.

We bullied our way through DC traffic and rolled into College Park around 4:30.  As we pulled into the hotel’s parking lot, we both filled with dread.  Sloan also received an urgent call from work at the same time.  And when I say urgent, I mean the entire reason he got a promotion was to woo a certain client to increase their business.  This call, at a 4:30 on a Friday, was the client saying they wanted to increase their business by an insane amount by the next day.  A joyous logistical nightmare. 

But nothing compared to the nightmare I was living through in the passenger side of the car.  Let me describe to you our motel.  That’s right—motel. Picture the motel from Momento but in the parking lot place several men in wife beaters and jhorts just milling around.  I can only assume they were either dealing drugs or protecting their investments in the various hotel rooms between Johns.  And then envision a high school lacrosse team from New Jersey getting out of their school vans and hear them complaining about the dump they are having to stay in.

My internal monologue went something like this—OK, Elizabeth.  Don’t say anything.  Just pray Sloan can see that there is no way in hell we are staying here.  It’s okay, Elizabeth, it’s okay.  Please don’t cry.  Please don’t cry.  You’re an adult, act like it.  I swear if Sloan doesn’t pull out a can of whip ass on the points concierge I’m going to take the kids and leave him to be molested by the men in jhorts.  And, oh my gosh, are you kidding me?  The kids’ movie is over?  This is not happening to me.  Everything is ruined and it is all because my husband is an idiot.  Please, dear Lord, help me to love this idiot.

Pic of the "suite" from the hotel website. 
This looks much nicer and brighter and cleaner than what we saw.

Thankfully, I said none of those things.  I just prayed over and over for Sloan to be able to see that we weren’t staying here and that I could be a loving wife regardless.  But he was knee deep with trying to figure out the stuff for his client.  It was too much.  He asked to see a room.  We parked in front of the room and as he opened the door to our “suite”, his face fell.  It was not a suite.  I was just a room with a pull out couch, a hot plate, and a mini-fridge.  He looked at me and said, “We can’t stay here.  We’ll get murdered.  And that’s if we’re lucky.  But I don’t know what to do.”  I could tell he was on the verge of losing it.  His phone kept dinging from texts and emails while Henry was yelling to us that he was hungry and the movie was over. 

Something in me took over.  What I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position in the back of my Suburban and feel sorry for myself.  Instead, I put on my big girl panties.  I said, “Here’s what we’re going to do.  Go inside and cancel our reservation.  We’re not staying here.  Then give me your hotel points card and I’ll figure out where we are staying.  You figure out how to help your client.  We’re on an adventure, and on adventures, things rarely go as planned.  You work, I got this.  It’s okay.” 

I swear, it was like I was suddenly possessed by a completely sane person.  It was a new feeling for me. 

I passed out snacks for the kids and put on a new movie.  I started hunting down a new hotel on my phone and then called the points people.  I explained to them our predicament.  I was kind and patient.  Very unlike me.  Very.  I think it helped that each person I spoke to was gracious, understanding, and sorry.  All women and most likely mothers, they understand our requests for a 2 room suite.  I think Sloan had spoken to a man who was just not getting how much we needed a 2 room suite, not just a larger room with a pull out couch.  We pulled out back into DC traffic at 5 o'clock headed away from certain death toward (hopefully!) another hotel in Arlington.

The living room of our studio one bedroom apartment. 
Yes, that's a conference sized dining room table. 
Henry slept in his sleeping bag on the couch
and we put G's pack n play in the corner.

Folks, I am now the master of all hotel booking for the Phillips family.  I got us the hook up!  We went from dumpo slumpo in Maryland to quite possibly the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in other than on my honeymoon in Arlington.  Within site of the Metro station and loads of restaurants, all of which we could be driven to by the hotel’s free shuttle.  And our suite was actually what the hotel calls “a one bedroom apartment suite”.  It’s normally not available for points people, but because I was so understanding, they felt obliged to get it for us.  And upon checking in, when I casually mentioned to the manager at the front desk that my kids had watched the entire movie The Princess and the Frog while the hotel points people got this all sorted out, she threw in daily parking for free. 

The amazing part of all of this was that I didn’t roll over and feel sorry for myself.  Or make Sloan take care of everything so I could then blame him if something went wrong.  We were a team.  I didn’t yell at him or blame him or suddenly tell him that he ALWAYS does the wrong things or NEVER does the right thing (not that I’ve ever done that before or anything).  I am so very thankful for the inconvenience.  I was able to serve my family.  God showed up and gave me patience and self-control.  Please don’t think I’m saying this tongue in cheek.  I’m really passive-aggressive.  Just the next morning I was shouting about a family who bumped us off the Metro shuttle while we were folding up our stroller and I was handing Grace to Sloan.  Literally, took our seats and we had to get Henry off the bus.  So I just began saying to Henry, “Henry, I’m sorry, but we can’t ride the shuttle now because that rude family took our seats even though we’d been waiting for over 20 minutes.  Never mind that their kids are in middle school and can walk themselves to the Metro.  It’s okay, Henry, don’t whine.  You are blessed with parents who are teaching you manners and aren’t total jerkoffs.”  Riiiiiiiiiiight.  Apparently, the lessons of God’s provision and going with the flow from the previous night didn’t stick. Ah well.

Over the weekend, we laughed about the murder motel in Maryland that we almost stayed in.  We looked it up on Yelp and laughed at the reviews that talked about cockroaches and robberies.  I am not joking.  We've now decided that we will no longer travel to places we've never been without consulting Yelp reviews beforehand.    No matter if it is free of not.  Yes, a family vacation IS an we  adventure and adventures rarely go as planned, but that is no reason to sleep on an uncomfy bed.