Name Change

When I went to see my sister Katie last Saturday night, she was staying at the Doubletree Hotel near the airport. (A few people expressed incredulity when they found out that I drove almost an hour each way just to see Katie for dinner. Either I really like my sister, or I’ve just gotten really used to how long it takes to get anywhere in Houston.)

I walked up to the front desk and explained my situation. “Hi, my sister is staying here with a large church group. Can I find out what room she’s in?” I was slightly worried that they wouldn’t tell me, citing security concerns or something, but the lady behind the desk was very helpful. “Oh yes, that group just checked in. What’s her last name?”

I told her, and she scanned her list. Not finding anything, she asked me again. I told her, and even spelled it out: “G-r-a-y-b-e-a-l.” Nothing. “The only G name I have is Goodson. I’ll put you on the phone to the trip leader’s room.”

I was puzzled, but quickly decided that the room must be under someone else’s name, whoever Katie was sharing it with. No one answered the phone in the trip leader’s room, and I stood there in the lobby for a moment, pondering my next move. Fortunately, I was saved when Katie appeared in the lobby, having assumed that I’d be getting there soon anyway. I told her I’d been wondering how I’d find her, since the room must be under a different name.

“No, it’s under my name,” she said. I told her that the woman couldn’t find her on the list. “Well, what name did you tell them?”

I rolled my eyes, still not comprehending. I told her our last name. Duh.

She started laughing. “Sarah, I got married, like, a year ago. White dress…big church, remember? My name is C now.”

Oh. Right. I knew that.