Some nights I can’t sleep. After I stop counting sheep, calculating how many more hours of sleep I could get if I fell asleep immediately, and consider getting up to read (which I don’t because I’m too tired), I start pondering the important questions of life.
Not questions like, “If you weren’t scared, what would you do?” (I would ride a crocodile) or “What is the meaning of life?” (Hot fudge brownie sundaes). I mean questions like:
- Who determined the size of a toilet-paper square? When did it become universal?
- Why is there nothing to eat in my kitchen?
- When did hotels stop using bedspreads, opting instead for the 2-foot wide table runner draped across the bed?
(Why is this a thing?)
- Why do I get black gunk in the corner of my eyes?
- How can I tell if anti-aging cream is working?
- Why are there so many keys on a keyboard?
- Is it really possible to tip a cow?
- Who ate the last Oreo?
- Why are the showers in hotel bathrooms placed at a height of 5 feet?
- Why do people keep trying to make me eat guacamole?
(This is about as unappetizing as you can get.)
- Is it possible that Victoria’s Secret is that she’s afraid of being fully clothed?
- What should I be when I grow up?
- What would my gangsta name be?
- Is there really nothing to eat in this house?
- Why does hockey/basketball season last so long?
About the time my questions turn into, “Why does blue feel like a chocolate donut?” or “If I had a pet genie would it taste like chicken?”, I realize I’m finally drifting off to sleep. Pleasant dreams.
I love staying in hotels, because (unless my house burned down) it usually means I’m out-of-town. And while I love staying in hotels, sometimes those hotels are . . . well . . . not exactly the best home-away-from-home. But that means I spend more time out of the hotel, enjoying new Mexican restaurants and local book stores.
Here are some things that get bad reviews on my hotel check-list:
- Bathroom mirrors. When the lighting is terrible, it shows every pore, bump and flaw on my face. Plus, it highlights all the tiny hairs on my lip, cheeks, forehead and chin. Why didn’t anyone tell me I look like an Ewok?!??!
(Just putting the finishing touches on my make-up.)
- The blow dryer. If I forget my blow dryer, I’m screwed. My hair is thick, and it takes three days to dry using that little wall plug-in blow dryer. It’s faster to shake my head like a puppy.
- Do Not Disturb. I’m glad maids still knock, even when there’s a No Molestar sign on my door. But that Do Not Disturb instruction does not mean NEVER disturb. I hate returning to my room, after spending the morning listening to people drone on and on and on, only to find the maid service has quit for the day.
- The exercise room. I’ve mentioned this 80s’-inspired torture chamber before, but it bears repeating. If you can’t keep your treadmills or ellipticals maintained–don’t say you have an “exercise room”! The last machine I used in a hotel kept shutting down every five minutes.
- The HVAC. You wake up at 2 a.m. and realize you’ve melted to your pillow. The temperature in the room is right below center-of-the-earth hot. Or. You wake up at 2 a.m. because your teeth are chattering, and the snot from your runny nose has frozen to the pillow.
- The fridge. It’s always cool (so to speak) to have a fridge in a hotel room. Except. It’s temperature keeps things like milk, soda or juice slightly above the going-spoiled level. Just leave the liquids on your nightstand. It’s probably colder there.