Stuck in the car park

Ah here we go, finally found a spot in the parking. Two doors open, then another two, then the last one. We're all out. My aunt is there, we have a little chat about this cat which is not mine. My mum mumbles something and walks toward the exit followed by my dad.

I open the back door and start spreading semolina on the sit. I need it to dry it and this seems the best place to do it (1). I figure my parents won't be happy with it (2) but I have no choice (3). I could have put some paper under it...oh well...
The job done, I slam the door and leave the car park. While taking the stairs to the upper level I realise I have no idea where I'm going. My mum didn't tell me which room we're in and she has taken my bag therefore my mobile. As I emerge from the parking, two huge beige towers stand on each of my side. It's the hotel. The reception is on my left.
-"Hi, sorry, I don't know which room I'm in, could you check?" I ask the young lady.
-"Sure let me see your ticket" she asks. I pull from my pocket a tiny green ticket with a bar code and many inscriptions on it. She takes it and tries to get information from the code but the computer doesn't recognise it. -"I'm sorry it's not working" she apologies.
-"Ok but I need to know which room is mine; can't you find out some other way?" I plead.
-"No, sorry" she adds cutting the conversation  short. I make my way out. She doesn't wish me a good night, she knows it won't be.


(1) Surely preparing Couscous on a back sit is common in Africa…
(2) You bet!
(3) Everything’s relative