NY See: Hotel hell-o

It’s been a long day. I’m tired, cold, and wet. The weather isn’t cooperating with my travel plans, and neither has my carryall. But, I'm almost at my hotel and I can leave those problems behind and focus on a new set of them.

Since budget is a consideration, I'm not booking a room at the St. Regis or The Pierre. It's a good thing I'm not picky when it comes to accomodations. I can fall asleep anywhere, just as long as it’s clean. A bed isn’t always necessary because I can sleep on the floor if needed. All I need are the basics.

Apparently, I should have higher standards.

**

As I flick the lightswitch on the wall, the room blinds me. There's a bare bulb in the ceiling and the walls are painted institution white. The carpet is covered in a dusting of joint compound because the room is being renovated.

The room is decorated in only the way that a blind, Korean grandmother would love. There is no headboard, a teeny tiny bedside table, and an old dresser (with no hangers inside).

Since the bed is next to the wall, I jump over it and go to the window to see the view. There isn’t one. The window is backpainted in black so you can't see out of it.

"Great," I say to no one in particular.

It's bad enough there's no television, but there's also no telephone. If someone comes into the room in the middle of the night, I can't dial 911 for help. Also, no one will hear me scream because the room is at the end of the hallway. If I get killed, the only way they’ll know I’m dead is when the cleaning lady moves my limp body to the side to make the bed in the morning.

I take a glance into the washroom. It's small, clean, and the plumbing works. There's a window, but it doesn't work since it's glued (and taped) shut.

Thankfully, I'm being moved to another room in the morning.

God forbid what's in store tomorrow.

**

When I open the door to my new room, I pray that I won’t be subjected to the Bates Motel. The last thing I need is to think of Anthony Perkins, dressed in drag, and holding a knife while looking over me.


When I turn on the lights, I’m pleasantly surprised. The room has halogen lighting, not a single bulb in the ceiling. The walls are painted in a zesty colour of lime, there is actual furniture (a headboard and dresser), a plasma TV on the wall, and a phone. It’s not luxurious, but it’s simple.


Best of all, there’s a window that opens… to an alleyway.

In the end, this room is a four-star suite compared with some of the places where my friends live. But, I shouldn't complain - most of the time spent in this room, I'll be unconscious.

Note: To all of my readers (and friends) in the USA, have a great memorial weekend.