Last week a gal called me and asked if her husband's ticket was refundable. I checked and it was indeed refundable. I explained she would need to bring it in and we'd write her a check for the refund since the original was paid in cash. She came in while I was on the phone, so another gal helped her. I didn't really pay attention to what was going on until after she walked out the door, at which point two of my co-workers exploded with laughter.

It turns out her husband had flown on the ticket. All she had was the passenger receipt because, as she carefully explained, "They took the rest at the airport." She just figured she could get the money back because she had heard it was a refundable ticket.

A little old lady in a shocking purple tracksuit came in and bent my ear all last week about taking a train from Vancouver to Calgary. There is only one train that goes there, but different companies package trips to Banff and Lake Louise along with the basic route in different ways. She absolutely insisted on leaving from Vancouver on a Saturday. Nothing I said could convince her that the train simply did not depart on that day. She had me call three different companies, all of which had the same departure, just to be sure. She then went home and called Via Rail herself because she didn't believe me.

"Lucy," she said breathlessly when she called me to tell me this, "You were right! I can't believe it! I thought you just didn't want me to leave on Saturday."

Yes, that's right, I don't want my clients to travel when they feel like it. I prefer a god-like approach to my work, subjecting puny mortals to my whims and needs. Sheesh.

A few months ago I helped a fellow put together an elaborate Italian honeymoon with which to surprise his bride to be. I found them fabulous palazzos and charming hotels in all the most scenic spots. It was going to be pricey but that was what the husband wanted. It was to be the trip of a lifetime. It was a lot of work, but I enjoyed it. I really do love working on Italian vacations when that's not the only thing I'm doing. I can't think of a more romantic place to spend your honeymoon.

Two weeks ago the fiance called and told me to cancel it all. "Oh my gosh," I said, "The honeymoon's not off, is it?"

No, he said, not at all. But he decided he wanted go to Las Vegas and stay at the Venetian. It would be just like Italy, he figured, at a quarter of the cost. "They have real Italians who work at the Venetian," he informed me. "No point going halfway around the world when we could get the same thing the next state over!"

I'd love to be a fly on the wall when he tells his young bride they're going to Vegas instead of Rome.

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