We arrived at our hotel in Virginia Beach for my daughter's spring break. At check-in, the woman behind the counter looked at me and said, "How can I help you?" No smile, no warmth. Not the usual hey, how are you — that easy, welcoming kind.

Then my (white) husband came and stood next to me. Her face broke into a smile. A more hospitality kind.

The room is booked under my name. The credit card is under my name. I am the one who pays for this hotel.

Am I being too sensitive?