The thought of inevitable comparisons with another character from the episode TV series β namely the slightly senile, perennially confused Major Gowen β when endeavouring to answer anything asked in Spanish disrupted a sleeping pattern already disjointed from experiencing the symptoms of coronavirus. This I did five days prior to departure, and it worked seamlessly for an itinerary that was tightly woven together, providing little excuse for traveller irritability.
The pandemic has hit the industry hard, to be sure, yet most of the staff encountered ought to be more industrious for a company approaching its centenary birthday, lest they wish to make passengers feel as welcome as NSA-whistle-blower Edward Snowden at the White House.
But my bright mood soon darkened when shown the room. Jalapeno Suite was as sheet-less as it was pillow-less although one pillow was provided, albeit reluctantly, for the receptionist was ostensibly of the opinion that failure to bring your own rendered a guest unfit to stay, much like a positive COVID test renders a passenger unfit to fly.
Worst still, however, was having to walk onto the main concourse for the toilet. Those not on a digital detox will likewise have to go beyond their door and possibly reception, presumably in night attire, for a stable internet connection.
For less curious, more thrifty travellers, spacious seating at the boarding gates provide the least objectionable areas from where to take refuge and recharge electronic devices and human bodies alike.
