You Must Always Pay for Breakfast, Even If You Already Did
Weary-eyed from a night of not sleeping all that well and flipping through channels of Polish-language A-Team and a Wheel of Fortune episode with an obvious answer like “a jednak sie kieci”, I made my way to my breakfast.
Everything was going well as I plowed through bowls of cornflakes, a heaping plate of sausage, bread, cheese, hardboiled eggs, and something I had taken from the buffet line but on further consideration was deathly afraid to eat (jello with vegetables in it?). And then, a man who looked like a retired NFL player burst into the room. “Dzien dobry (good day),” he said, and I didn’t answer because my mouth was full, and then “fdas jaksldfj asdjkg asdjgkl” (or something else in Polish) and next thing I knew he wanted my key. I got the sense that my good times were coming to an end when he was joined by another figure of similar build, who nodded in agreement. Then he went on about how breakfast cost 20 zlotys. This should not have been a problem, because I already paid for it. I explained this to him, and he didn’t seem to believe me, so I ran upstairs. He must have ran after me, because he was already at my door when i was rummaging for my receipts. Anyway, after some more confusion, I brought the receipts down to the front desk, confirmed that I had paid, and that was that. No apologies or nothing, but at least my life was spared, so i guess i should be thankful? I may never really be sure.
Tags: Food, Language barriers, Poland, Płock, Travel
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