I’ve returned to America to work for the summer. Because of the late arrival time of the flights, the travel company has decided to put us all up in a hotel for the first week and has arranged a bus to take us from the airport to the hotel. My luggage is one of the last bags to be unloaded from the plane, so by the time I reach the bus I find that it’s overbooked. Fortunately, there is room for my luggage and I’ve got a rough idea of where the hotel is as I’ve been there before, so I volunteer to make my own way there. Rather than splash out for a cab, I decide to stretch my legs and make my own way there. The journey takes a while as I have to recall it from memory. I know I’m in the right area but I’ve memorised the wrong hotel name. I pop into another hotel to try and borrow their wi-fi and end up following a wild wedding reception in the corridors for a few minutes. Eventually I recognise the hotel by sight and spot my luggage in the lobby. All I have to do is check in but my travel papers are in a mess and my papers fly everywhere.
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