Cumming to the Convention

"Mina Hayes," I said as I set my bag down on the counter. I was still like totally sore and exhausted from the plane ride to Philadelphia. It was only noon, but it felt much later. I smelled like the taxi that had gotten me from the airport. The man behind the counter typed something into his computer. I looked around the hotel lobby, it seemed pretty nice.

"I am not seeing a Mina Hayes with a reservation," the man said in a very snooty voice. I looked up at saw a sign on the counter.

"There," I said, tapping the sign, "I have one of...