One pumpernickel bagel with chopped liver, please

It rained a solid six days while I was in New York. That was a bit of a downer, especially when it was so bad there was nothing else to do than stay in our incredibly whiffy ‘hotel’ room. It took me a few days to get used to the city, its advertising, the cabs and the sirens, its cops, 24 hour culture, 31-derful flavours and in oh my gawd we trust. By the time I felt aclimatised, it was time to go home.

One thing I got used to very quickly. Tasty food and snacks everywhere, at all hours, for next to nothing. (Bless the strong Euro.)

Now I’m home, not terribly jet-lagged at all (yet) and there are family matters to attend to. ‘Hours or weeks.’ That kind of thing.

Meet me in the middle

Deep down I think I find ‘money money money’ quite distasteful and I’ll avoid thinking about the act of paying. This means I end up paying full price for everything everywhere I go and would rather die than dispute a bill.

Just a second ago while booking my hotel room in Dublin, I was quoted 70 Euro for a single room en suite (‘weekend charge’). Having paid 50 to 60 for same on previous occassions, in a surge of assuredness, I said ‘I’m a returning customer, have stayed with you many times, can you do anything for me?’ and was given the same room for 60.

I feel quite the adult.

Do you haggle?

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