I'd been traveling all day-first a 3-hour layover in Minneapolis, Minnesota (-26 degrees!) where the airport was oddly super-renovated, new and chock full of shops-iPod vending machines?
After a delayed arrival, I took an over-crowed shuttle to park city (middle seat, natch), then arrived at the hotel. My room is in a separate building that requires a map and entry code, instead of the hotel room I booked at the condo-tel.
I'm told I've been "upgraded" to a studio (unfortunately, I learn not of the quaint aspen loft variety, more of the oddly-configured, poorly-furnished LES studio of my east coast reality variety). Oh, and it took the maintenance guy who hoofed my suitcase over the icy parking lot 10 minutes on the floor with a mini-blow torch to relight the heater pilot light to warm the damn place.
One day, I swear, I will come to Park City and not stay at a place that could give me bed bugs-or burn down from said blow torch.