7 April 2012
Dear San Jose, Costa Rica:
I hope this finds you well.
I am writing you to complain about the subpar customer service experience I had recently while staying with you.
Frankly, I was offended by the ill-timed religious ceremony – also known as Saint’s Week or Semana Santa – that was taking place during my visit, and not only because I’m a non-practicing Jew who thinks the only good thing to come out of Easter is Cadbury Crack Eggs.
Had I known that all the hot women would be out of town, as they traditionally are, and the only tight dresses I would see walking the streets would be those of transsexual prostitutes that kept on chanting “papiiiiiiiiiiiii, you have a cigarette for me?”, I would have changed the dates of my trip.
I was looking forward to dining in several of your high-end eateries, only to find them temporarily shuttered. If I had intended to consume a diet of quick-serve-junk like quesadillas, chili, and club sandwiches – as I was required to do – I would still be hanging out at my college cafeteria.
But the most unkindest cut of all was saved for last. As a former alcoholic professional, now professional alcoholic, I can’t imagine what you were thinking by deciding to close all the liquor stores – including the one in duty free!!! – during my last day in town. As the Brits say: really? Seriously? Were you taking the piss, mate?
I have reviewed the terms & conditions that were listed when I signed up to stay with you, and there was no mention of this cruel and unusual punishment I was forced to endure. Would I invite YOU to New York, then proceed to hide away all my eligible daughters and lock the liquor cabinet, and force you to subsist on microwave pizza while I spewed some Old Testament whatnot in your ear? I think not.
Please refund my 72 hours at your earliest convenience.
Duck S. Stevens, Esq.