One theme that has been totally consistent since the inaugural trip is the cluelessness of the staff at these national park lodges. Not once in eight years of doing this have we not had the reservation get screwed up somehow, and this year was no exception. As we went to check in, it became clear that they had misunderstood some aspect of the reservation and were short a room. Both of the girls working the front desk looked to be about 14 and as it became clear that it was their mistake, they started to kind of freak out.
"I guess we could give them the panic room," the one said to the other.
"Yeah! The panic room!" the other cried out with an odd mix of desperation and relief.
So they gave us the "panic room." We all agreed it would be best for my uncle Bill to stay in there just in case.
I don't care what he says about the "bad dreams" or the "feeling of hands around his neck as he was sleeping," it's worth it to wake up here:
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