In 1993 I traveled several times to Australia on business. Each trip I took a few extra days to explore. Sometimes I had plans, other destinations were set by whim or the recommendations of Australians I worked with.
I decided to go to Tasmania while in Melbourne. One of the admin assistants arranged for flights, rental car, and hotels.
For four days I explored from my base in Hobart. The final day was spent hiking. I arrived at the airport hotel (I was flying out early the next morning) dirty and sweaty. The desk clerk looked at me, then looked at my reservation.
“Are you sure you want this room?”“Is there some reason I wouldn’t want it?”
“It’s quite expensive.”
I looked at the reservation. The price seemed reasonable. “It’s fine.”
When I walked into the room, I knew why the clerk had given me such a peculiar look. The admin had booked the best suite in the hotel – three bedrooms and bathrooms and a massive living room / dining room. The table held an enormous bowl of fruit and a bottle of wine.
Too bad I hadn’t made a lot of friends while in Tasmania.
