Holiday in Heck: London Calling

My friend Carl warned me that the London hotel situation was grim. He'd moved there 10 years ago to wed the love of his life, make little English-American children and start his own production company so he had plenty of experience.

We'd met 15 years ago when we were producers at NBC News. He and I became good friends. He and his band rocked my wedding. And we've stayed in touch ever since. It was natural that I would try to see him during a two week trip to Europe with my wife and my 12 and 9 year old daughters.

In an effort to get to Amsterdam on the cheap, I conspired to use 180,000 American Airlines miles to cover for their tickets. AA doesn't fly to Schipol non-stop, at least not for frequent flier mile users. So an overnight in London going and coming was added to the trip. (Husbands, do not try this at home.)

My wife does not like to fly. So much so that in the 22 years her sister has lived in Amsterdam, she has visited exactly never. And with Sister Sara looking to return stateside in the next year or two, it was now or never. And besides, Charlotte, our little one, was desperate to go to London to see the Eiffel Tower.

So in the face of a crappy exchange rate, non-existent foreign language skills, a wife who wanted to dope herself at the m

ere thought of a trans-Atlantic flight, a dog in need of two weeks pet sitting, and me only 8 weeks into my new job, I booked it. A week in A'Dam. A week in Paris (we learned that this is where the Eiffel Tower is located). Plus two nights at two London hotels.

Coming, we stayed at the Premier Inn a few minutes from Heathrow. As £100 airport hotels go, you could not do any better.

The trip was amazing, notwithstanding a €10 milkshake for Charlotte on Rue Moufftard. (I should have looked at the menu before ordering). No. Seriously. It was an unforgettable trip in all the ways a "take the kids to Europe for the first time" should be.

Except one.

On the way home, we had made plans to connect with Carl, his wife and their two kids. I screwed up and dawdled away a chance to books rooms at the Cheswick Moran for £185 per double. So I found the Holiday Villa online. Clearly not anywhere close to the Moran's quality but at least there were mostly decent reviews on TripAdvisor.com. £240 for a triple. The booking.com booking tool spit back a "too many guests" warning, so I called to say "what should I do?" The guy I spoke to (I wish now that I'd gotten his name) said "Just mark on the comments section." He explained there was an extra fee (I think it was £20 or £40) for the 4th person. Well, ok. My fault for waiting.

We arrived Thursday evening around 8. Waited while Ms. A*, the one person at registration, tried to manage an out-of-patience Chinese family with limited English skills, a complaining Italian woman, a ringing phone, and me and my family.

I tried to play the good guy, empathizing with her situation. I eventually got my key, opened the door and WHAM.

The smallest triple you'd ever seen. A double bed, then 12 inches of crawl space, then a single bed crammed against the wall. A dresser with a small TV. And a crib for an infant. You may have glossed over my family make-up. Me and my wife are in our mid-40s. My daughters are 12 and 9. None of us can fit in a crib.

I wish I had the foresight to take a photo. Since I didn't, I'll use this gentleman's picture of the size of the bathroom: