the long awaited hotel post
February 6, 2007
perhaps only long awaited by me
The hotel is what it is. It doesn’t pretend to be the Marriot. Hell, let’s be honest it doesn’t even pretend to be Motel 6. My idea of roughing it is a 4 star hotel. It wasn’t any cheaper than any other “normal” hotel either, so it’s not like we got some sort of bargain.
I did not book the hotel. I don’t know what Rob was thinking, to be honest. But I am now adding it to the list with the green paint in the family room and the Audi. And perhaps with the box of Junior Mints that he gave me as a Christmas present one year. Why yes, it does suck being married to me. Or maybe to him.
I also have a thing about germs, dirt, and hotels in general. Stacy could tell you the first time I met her at BlogHer in San Jose I walked into her hotel room and was horrified that she had the comforter still on her bed. I helpfully tore it off and threw it in the corner, while Kris and I told her about the 20/20 special, or whatever tv expose it was that we had both seen. So to say that the Hotel Chelsea was not a good fit for me would be an understatement.
This is the hotel lobby. Filled with kitschy artwork. I am an artist, or at least I was until I had children who sucked every last bit of my creative energy out of my soul, so I appreciate artwork.
Look at the awesome metalwork on the stairway. It really is incredible.
Aesthetically speaking, it is a cool old hotel. But it is sorely lacking in it’s upkeep. The old home renovator in me would love to buy it and restore it, strip the 120 layers of paint that are slathered on all of the woodwork, polish the floors, repaint the ghastly colors. Did I mention give it a good scubbing?
And it smelled. Like all different people’s dinner cooking at once. And you could hear everything though the walls. A phone rang in the room next to us and we got to hear the entire conversation like he was sitting in the room with us. Also, some people near the stairs having really loud sex, or else killing each other, it was difficult to tell.
To get to our room, you had to walk through doors like these.
And there at the end of the hallway we were greeted by this. The man who worked at the front desk walked Rob up to the room because he said we could never find it on our own. Because there aren’t numbers. Not sure why, he could have just said take a left at the toilet. Unless of course this feature is on every floor, a fact I didn’t consider until just now.
And here is our room. Our colorful little room.
I wrote REDRUM in the steam in the bathroom mirror when Rob was showering. And then pretended I had no idea how it got there.
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