Tiny Soap and Dead Prostitutes

July 3rd was my wedding anniversary. My husband and I had made plans to spend the late afternoon and early evening sitting on a rooftop bar with friends.  The weather was fabulous and we are partial to our friends.

In addition to the evening with friends, Mike and I had gotten a room at a hotel downtown, within walking distance from the bar so that we could drink as much as we want.  As it turned out we probably didn’t need the hotel as we didn’t drink as much as we could have, but it was nice to have it just the same.

My brain has a range of emotions in regards to hotel rooms. Of course there is the convenience of having a space of your own when traveling.  I have always preferred staying in a hotel to staying at someone’s house.  As a solitary person I need a lot of down time and I like having my own “home base” to return to and work from. There are times during travel where I just need to take a break from going and going. Luckily my husband is the same way.  In fact, we spent one evening of our honeymoon in bed, eating Totino’s Pizza Rolls and watching True Blood.

However, a hotel room is NOT home. When you walk into the room I tend to have that Terminator vision screen pop up in my head as I assess everything that could possibly have semen or some other bodily fluid on it.  I kick under the beds to make sure it’s not open and potentially hiding a dead prostitute. I check for lipstick marks on the “clean” glasses…you get the picture.  I am not even a germ-a-phobe, but dang…those places can be gross.

Once I have reconciled with the fact that this place has to be my home for the next day or so and that there are no visible signs of nastiness or dead bodies, I then move on to taking stock of our amenity situation.  Is there a hairdryer?  How well do the curtains block light? Does the lotion smell good?  Why do they always have a “Facial Bar” for hand soap? How needs this many hand towels?  Does the shower have good water pressure or does it feel like someone is peeing on your head? You know…the petty stuff.

When we travel as a family we tend to pick hotels that have a continental breakfast.  It just works well when you need to feed kids.  It’s nice to wake up and know you don’t have to “order” something and can eat and go back to your room.  I will gladly exchange the long wait for the toaster and floppy sausage discs for the need to leave the room to feed the kids right after they get up.

Upon checking out of the hotel I will check and re-check if we have left anything behind.  Usually we find a stray phone charger or hair tie.  After that I am all about taking what is “complimentary”. I look like Steve Martin from The Jerk. “I don’t need any of this stuff, none of it…except this small bottle of lotion, and this shower cap.  But nothing else! Not a thing except this bag of green tea that I will never drink and the shamp and condish that  will make my hair feel like straw.  That’s it though!  Except for this pen.” I can’t remember the last time I bought a pen.  All of my pens are taken from businesses, hotels or my job.

After we get home from our stay at our hotel, I generally wash EVERYTHING. I honestly must be able to turn off my brain while sleeping in those beds because just thinking about it now is making me wiggle and gag simultaneously.

I have a very complicated relationship with hotels.  I just thought you should know.

BTW, this is the room we stayed in at the Millennium Hotel in Minneapolis, MN. During our check-in we were asked if we were staying for a special occasion. When we mentioned that it was our anniversary we were bumped up to a Club Level room.  Very nice. The breakfast was good and the staff was very kind.  I am also happy to report clean rooms and no dead ladies of the night.

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One Response to Tiny Soap and Dead Prostitutes

  1. Eli Pacheco says:

    I’m not sure how I’d handle finding a live lady of the night under my bed. I don’t think they offer those sorts of amenities in this part of the world. I’m your polar opposite – I check in, put on the blinders, and sleep. (I do take off the bedspread first. I’m not an animal.)

    Liked by 1 person

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