Recently, my husband and I grabbed a quick night away at Bonnet Creek at Disney World. I was in Mickey Land for a writers’ conference, so we took advantage of our time share to avoid the drive across town after a long day of seated inspiration. Nothing wears me out like sitting and learning. Unless it’s activity.
The deal with our timeshare is that within two weeks of checking in, if there is a room upgrade available and we swoop down and “click” on it, we get it for free. That was our fortune this stay. We went from a lowly one-bedroom unit to the top-floor presidential one-bedroom suite. Sweet!
This meant that once in the elevator, to get to our sweet suite, we had to insert our room key by the floor numbers to allow us access to our floor. The feeling of importance that this elicited can only be imagined by the peons who were forced to live out their day-to-day time-share lives on the lower 18 floors.
Not being one to flaunt my perceived importance, it was a little embarrassing when we got on the elevator with another family and they asked us which floor we wanted.
With a blush of the cheek and my best nonchalant look, I said, “Oh, we’re on the 19th floor, we have to insert our room key for that one.”
“Oh, they’re on the top floor. They must be something special,” they taunted.
I replied, “Not really. We simply got a last-minute upgrade. Seriously, we’re just like you.”
“You mean you just got out of prison?” the man asked.
“Well, not quite like you. We are, after all, on the 19th floor.”