Vacation FAIL!

Picture this:

We arrive at our condo in Nags Head after driving for four hours. I walk in first, and I am greeted at the door by four dead cockroaches. "That's peculiar," I think. I venture a little further in, and I realize that the bed linens are strewn everywhere. Some are at the feet of the beds; others are balled up on the sofa. I stand in the middle of the living room, scratching my head, somewhat confused at the situation. "I guess housecleaning still hasn't come through here," I say to myself. My mom walks in and is immediately shrieking with disgust. She tries to turn on the faucet, but no water comes out. She goes into Asian hysterics. I am afraid of what she might do.

I try calling every number, including the after-hours emergency number, but none of them go through. I drive to one of the local offices, where I find one man working, but he is in the sales division of the company and can't help me. He tries calling every number he has for the rentals branch, but none of them work, either. He recommends that we drive to two other local offices to see if anyone there can help us, but there is nobody to be found. He suggests we find hotel rooms, stay the night, and show up at the rental office when it opens tomorrow at 9am and ask them to pay for our hotel bill. We heed his advice.

And that brings us to there here and now. I am blogging from a room on the fourth floor of the Comfort Inn Oceanfront South. While my dad watches a documentary about Roswell.

Best moment of the vacation so far:
Mom: Did you see that picture of Bahama's wife? She looked so ugly in that red dress!
Me: Did you mean... Obama?
Mom: OH, HAHAHA! I SAID BAHAMA!