However, our airplane did not want to leave, because it was rainy. Our airplane, in short, was a pansy. So, due to this, Olga and I were given the "distressed passenger rate" to stay at a nearby hotel for the night while we waited for our airplane/American Airlines as a whole to grow a pair, and take us home the next morning.

For those of you who may not fly much, here's a tip: turns out, the distressed passenger rate is alarmingly close to the rate everyone else would pay anyway. So, the coupon American Airlines gave us actually did not give us any sort of monetary break whatsoever: instead, it just gave them a chance to call us a name, in print, and hand it to us. Cagey move, AA.

This is important, because had we known that we weren't actually getting any sort of break on rate, we could have chosen our own hotel, as opposed to having felt obligated to AA's buddy, The Quality Inn. Here are some things you might want to know about Orlando Airport's Quality Inn:

1) Actually not at the airport. In fact, a good 10 minutes farther away from the airport than many other hotels that probably would have been much nicer. Basically, I can call my apartment "Kevin's Airport Apartment" and it would be just as accurate of a description in terms of location. (Note: I don't live in an airport. Hopefully, I never will.)

2) I don't make a habit of looking at places and judging them like this, but walking to our room it became very clear that the Quality Inn's hallways and outdoor corridors seemed like pretty ideal places for sexual assault. Ambiance? Oui.

3) There was one guy working there. He answered phones, checked people in, brought things to people's rooms, and even tended the bar. When he was busy, and someone wanted a drink, the cabbie from outside came in and served drinks. This is not a joke - this happened, and I'm sure it's not legal.

4) At first, we thought it impressive that they provided you with seven different menus for food to order in. Two were Chinese places, two Italian, one was a bar and grill, one was pizza, and one was Thai food. All had large menus. The catch -- they all had the same phone number. Shady? Big time.

5) Between two ice machines, I was able to get a total of nine ice cubes. The first one dropped two cubes in, and I continued to press it and hear it's motor churn for another full minute, to no avail. I went down through sex crime alley to the other ice machine - seven cubes, and it was done. I took the last ice in the state. Florida, you're welcome.

6) A dragon fly the size of a bat committed hari kari about an inch from my face, smacking into a window like an over ripe tomato. This might not actually be Quality Inn's fault, but it doesn't bode well when dragon flies are like, "This place blows, I'm ENDING it!"

7) They had a tattered sign that said "Premises under 24 hour video surveillance." I'm 100% sure this is a lie. Quality Inn can't afford to freeze water -- I don't think they have cameras. I don't even think the Orlando Airport Quality Inn is under the surveillance of God. I don't think he could bear to watch. It's what his creations created, worst case scenario.

At one point Francine and I decided we were participating in the most romantic thing to ever happen at a Quality Inn. What were we doing? Eating pizza. Domino's. But we actually sorta like each other - I'm convinced no two people who like each other have ever been to a Quality Inn together before. The Quality Inn is a place you should be too embarrassed about to take your favorite hooker. Hell, Quality Inn shouldn't even be on the list of places you should consider taking your second favorite hooker.

Go La Quinta. Every time.

* Olga is her real name.