This is probably one of those things that Americans are much better at than the Brits (they certainly have more practice at it), but valet parking always sends me into a panic.
On the face of it, arriving at a hotel and having someone offer to park your car for you is a pretty great idea. You can forget about driving round the block umpteen times to track down a parking space, or trying not to scrape against a nearby wall as you shoe-horn your car into the last space in the car park. Then, when it’s time to depart, you can just hover with your bags by the front door while your car is magically summoned for you.
In reality however, when I arrive at a hotel, I’ve usually been charging along a motorway or winding county lanes for several hours and my head is still somewhere on the M4. Someone dashing out of the front door and offering to take my car off me just completely throws me. What’s worse, is that the car is usually an utter tip.