Honey...where's our room?

Here's a story for you guys from the first time Anthony and I went to Disney. :)

We stayed at the yacht club resort. Big fancy name, but that was just the theme. It was beautiful, might I add. And huge. The resort had three floors and a humongus pool outside in which my niece, Cassie, had a blast playing in.
Our room was on the second floor. It had a balcony that overlooked the pool. It was beautiful.
So on our last day there, my husband was exausted. He decided to stay behind and relax in the room while I took Cassie to Blizzard Beach. (My brother and his wife werre having some fun at Paradise Island the night before, so they were dead to the world.)
Anthony said good-bye to Cassie and I after a nice breakfast.
Anthony went to the last hallway (we were really far from the desk) and slid his "key" in the door.
Nothing happened.
He did it again.
Again, nothing.
Now, Anthony had this problem once before and he was angry. He stormed all the way to the desk and stopped when he realized something.
He didn't go down any stairs.
And he didn't take an elevator.
Anthony was on the wrong floor. The poor guy at the desk looked terrified because it looked like Anthony was about to rip his head off. Anthony just turned red and said:
"I like your tie."
And turned away.

:)

:)