Hotel Layover
Friday, October 17, 2008
I love hotels. I know there are people out there who are grossed out by hotel rooms because there have been some outlandish documentaries showcasing people going into the rooms with CSI-like black lights and showing all the mysterious stains on the bed covers and such. I prefer to ignore what I can't see, plus, most hotels we have stayed in remove the decorative bed covers and use the sheet-like blanket covers that can be removed and laundered.
While some would use the black light to rate the hotel room, I use a different method. I walk into the room, throw my bags down, take a quick glance around the room and then flick on the bathroom light. I have stayed in a number of hotels in my lifetime and no matter the nightly rate, the room layout is generally the same, or at least the contents of the room: bed - check!, desk - check!, television - check! It's all pretty standard, even if it is a higher class room with a sitting area, the room doesn't usually impress me much. But the bathroom! That is a different story. I always inspect the bathroom first and save my "This is a nice room!" exclamations until I have done so. There have been some bathrooms that have been much less than appealing, causing me to sleep fully clothed, with jacket, shoes and shower cap in fear of catching something because if the bathroom is THAT bad? WHAT, pray tell, is on the sheets?
When we stayed in Malaysia overnight, we were escorted from the arrival terminal to our hotel, and, of course, upon entering the room I commenced with my ritual: throw bags down, flick on the bathroom light, inspect and then exclaim, "This is nice!" I was delighted to find some salon-esque toiletries. The organic box packaging lined along the shelves made me feel like I was helping myself to an array of goodies from a store for FREE!
After my bathroom inspection ritual, I took on the next task at hand that is on my "settling in" to-do list and perused through the hotels folder of services. I was delighted to see that there was a salon in the hotel that offered eyebrow shaping for a decent price. Seeing as my eyebrows had taken on a life of their own and were even required to produce their own passport at customs, I figured it was time to take some action. I quickly made an appointment, which to my delight was only 15 minutes from when I phoned. I love the low season.
Reluctantly, I shoved some cash into my pocket and made my way to the appointment I had made, tears still lingering in the corners of my eyes. I tried to make myself look as pathetically hopeless as possible as I walked through the lobby, but nobody paid me any mind, much less asked what my drama was all about. As I entered the salon, the telephone rang and the receptionist handed it to me. My husband was calling! They had found my purse! In tact! Exactly where I had left it! Nothing missing! To be delivered in 30 minutes! I was as light as air! The burden and fear had lifted. I could have flown like a bird! Too bad the Malaysian girl that was waxing my eyebrows had to ruin it all by saying, "You are very hairy."
