Sunday, September 28, 2014

Who's That Woman In Our Bed?

Fortunately, the young woman didn't call the police. Hopefully she'll now lock her door.

D-L and I arrived in Montreal after an eight-hour drive up from Boston, the last two hours of that at a crawl on 10 West - seems like half of Quebec was returning from the shore, the lakes, and the mountains. We managed to find the condo we are renting for the week near the Old Port and the underground parking.

Donna-Lane was a little uneasy about being on the 15th floor. She said she learned when working for the National Fire Protection Association that firetruck ladders can only reach the 7th floor. (Note to self for future rentals - lower floors only.)

But she wasn't nearly as uneasy as the unknown young woman whose apartment we walked into by mistake. Guess I mixed up the numbers. The door was unlocked, as the condo owner said it would be. But when we walked in, it was like the 3 Bears walking into their house after Goldilocks had been there -- dirty dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor -- obviously someone was still living there.

D-L discovered the startled young woman in her bedroom, studying for exams.

I started to fire up the computer to double-check the reservation and to call the condo owner's backup friend who would help us with any difficulty. Then I pulled the paper from  my pocket on which I had written the essentials.

Oops. I had the wrong condo. The young woman had every right to be in her own abode.

I hustled down the hallway, found the correct condo, then retrieved D-L and our luggage as we profusely apologized to the young woman. D-L wished her well with her exams.

The correct condo is wonderful, and we're looking forward to a pleasant week in the most European-like city in North America. (And not behind bars.)

You can read D-L's version of the event at:

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