Follow-up to vacation debacle

When I was a kid I liked to lay on my back in a field with my friends and look up at the big puffy white clouds.

What was fun about this activity was each of us could look at the shapes and see different things. I might see a dragon, while my friend swore he was looking at a giraffe. My column last week on my trip to Cape Cod and the troubles with the hotel took on that effect.

Meaning, I have never written an article about a specific thing and had so many people write me with their own interpretations of what I meant.

First up, let me give you a quick recap and happy update. For those who missed the column, my wife and I had to cancel our once a year vacation out west because of Covid-19 and since it was my wife’s birthday I tried to do something special. That “special” meant taking her for an overnight to the Chatham Bars Inn on Cape Cod.

This is a five-star resort that charges a lot of money and is absolutely gorgeous, sitting right on the ocean.

Without beating up on the resort again, the room wasn’t ready, the front desk clerk argued with me when I asked to be given what I paid for and there were some other missteps. Was I staying at the Howard Johnson’s for a hundred bucks I wouldn’t have much cared but this room cost $11-hundred dollars for a single night.

I also warned them before I came, telling them when I booked that I was a writer and would be sharing my experience with my 140,000 social media followers.

The day after the article ran the hotel sent me a routine survey asking me to share my experience. I’m sure a computer sends this out to every guest after a stay. I told the general manager what went wrong and didn’t mention the newspaper article. Apparently though, a number of people sent it to him so by Monday afternoon I had everyone at the Chatham Bars emailing, calling and apologizing.

The happy update is the hotel refunded half my money and said they were sorry. That to me is fair and more than enough. They also want my wife and I to come back and stay for free, a kind offer that I politely declined. Not because I hate the hotel now, I just don’t like profiting from a situation and the refund they gave and apology was plenty.

As far as I’m concerned, the ledger is balanced.

Then the emails started coming in. Two people equated what happened to me at the hotel and said, paraphrasing now, “Now you know what racism feels like.” I sat there dumbstruck thinking; I really don’t think me checking in to my room late and having warm white wine in a bucket of water is the same as a person of color dealing with racism.

I’m about 100% sure racism is a whole lot worse.

Another man took me to task saying that I’ll complain about hotel service but I don’t care about police brutality. At no point in my column did “the police” come up so I’m not sure why my vacation plans triggered the man in that way.

I’ve had others take that approach in the past. They write me and say something like, “Hey Gray, I notice you never write about brussel sprouts. In 25 years, more than a thousand columns, NO BRUSSEL SPROUTS, so it is very clear you hate them.”

Writing really doesn’t work that way. I told the guy, I never write about Cleveland but that doesn’t mean I hate Cleveland. I just write what pops in my head each week.

My favorite though came from a nice lady who took issue with me using the phrase “the wife.” As in, “I ran in the restaurant to get the food while the wife pulled the car around front to pick me up.”

The woman felt it was demeaning to her. I told her my wife read the column before it went to print and didn’t care so she shouldn’t care either.

It’s a bit like you telling Suzie at work that she looks really nice in her new dress and a week later you are called to the H.R. department because another employee (who you weren’t talking too) complained that you are commenting to Suzie on how she looks. It doesn’t matter that Suzie smiled and said, “Thank you I got it on sale at Marshalls,” you my friend now have a note in your personnel file.

You know what’s interesting? For twenty years, when my column ran on Wednesdays, I rarely got this kind of email. There’s something about the Sunday edition that brings out a much more aggressive readership. Which is fine.

Just know Chatham Bars and I “virtually” shook hands and made up. The wife was happy with the pizza I got her on her birthday instead of a fancy meal. And I have no intention of writing about Brussel sprouts or Cleveland anytime soon but I think both are swell.