The Cancelled Reservation

Travel has a way of making even the most unforeseen situations foreseen, but I hadn't considered a hotel changing hands entirely, cancelling my reservation, and flat out not notifying me until I got there for my attempted check-in. That is, until it happened to me. (Thankfully no money had changed hands so this was

For my last D.C. trip in the spring, I booked at what was then Generator (it now operates as Hotel Rendale renting out private rooms versus the individual bed option Generator had for roughly $150/night) in Dupont Circle, a boutique hostel-hotel combo that I stayed at and loved for my first visit in 2022.

There was no impression in the lead-up that something was amiss. Generator (whom still operates hotels across Europe and in New York) continued sending me emails and no money returned to my bank account since I would've only been charged when I actually stayed.

Upon arrival, everything was typical as I commuted from Reagan National Airport on the Metro to Dupont Circle and hauled my suitcase three quarters of a mile uphill (in retrospect: a torture exercise even if it did afford me some peaceful views of the city's famous row homes.

Even walking up to the front door, nothing was obviously wrong (except I think they got a new paint job?... still nothing that would've set up alarm bells).

After being humbled at the reception desk, I was in disbelief, distress, and borderline tears as I faced the prospect of a destitute night in the nation's capital. It was approaching midnight to add icing to the cake. I pulled myself together enough to take advantage of the mercifully still available patio tables and planned my next move (groveling for a couple hundred dollars worth of an unexpected expense wasn't out of the question). I remembered the other hotel I'd had positive experiences at in D.C. (the Hyatt Place US Capitol in the NoMa neighborhood) and that I had credit card points that could turn into Hyatt points in a pinch.

Five minutes later, I had a bed to call my own for about 11 hours. Metrorail service had ended for the night given the late hour but thankfully there is select Metrobus service that runs overnight to get me over to NoMa. (For the record, I ended up spending the rest of the trip in Chinatown at I Street Hostel. The experience was both dirt cheap and surprisingly comfortable considering I ended up with a private room and got to use a bidet for the first time - my life has been forever changed.)

If there is a moral of the story here, it's to ensure that you have the resources to make adjustments when plans change and to stay calm. A solution is out there even if it doesn't appear so at the immediate moment.