Tulsa Hilton Garden Inn, airport

Planes, trains and air conditioners: a trio of madness.

But first, let me tell you why I chose to stay at the Hilton Garden Inn at Tulsa airport. I had a very early morning flight that Friday. The hotel I'd been staying in all week, the Residence Inn, was about 20 minutes from the airport — on a good traffic day. I wanted to maximize the amount of sleep I would get. Plus, I did not want to have Lee, with whom I was DTUing, have to face the torture of waking up so early to take me to the airport. So, I booked myself into the airport hotel. I arrived early, about 6 p.m. and had a relaxing evening.

After about 9 p.m., things turned sour. On a night when I had 8 hours to allocate to sleep, I got about 3, thanks to the cacophony of swooshes, whistles and clicks provided by the culprits above. I expected the airport hotel to get a fair share of airplane noises. I did not, however, expect the drawn-out train whistles. When I turned on the A/C to mask the sounds from outside, I was treated instead to a constant click-click-clicking from the fan.

I called the front desk to ask if they sold ear plugs in the store. Nope. And I, who normally travel with these life-savers, for some reason decided not to pack any this time around. So I was stuck tossing and turning all night. I awoke about 6 a.m., dressed for breakfast and prepared my speech for the front desk clerk.

I got downtstairs and told the man behind the desk about my "horrible" night, and all he did was ask what room I was in and tell me he would write a note to maintenance. A little late for that, buddy. He did not offer any apology or even a breakfast voucher ($9.95 for breakfast at this hotel; fortunately, the check-in clerk gave me one when I asked if breakfast was included). Stunned and sleepy, I went and ate my breakfast and related the story to the friendly (and sympathetic) waitress, Pat. She was very cool and gave me a "catch me a my best" card, which she said she'd pass along to the manager. I filled it out and returned it to her, praising Pat and censuring the front-desk clerk.

I checked out and went on my not-so-merry way, knowing I would be calling the manager before long. I called Monday morning and spoke to Terri, the manager. She, like Pat, was sympathetic and kind. She told me that the kind of service I received was atypical, and that he (the front-desk clerk) "should know better than that." Terri asked what she could do to make it up to me. She offered some hotel points. I asked for a bit more. She agreed easily. Victory of sorts.

So I am happy with my points. But I am never going to stay at that hotel again.

And the irony is not lost on me. I thought I was doing myself a favor by checking in to a hotel that would save me some drive time. Guess not.