I don’t stay in a lot of hotels – the universe is generous to me and often finds a way to insinuate me into the homes of locals. I declined that offer this time because I had the idea that sprawling solo in a swank downtown hotel would be a fun and unusual diversion. I am a dope. Last night at dinner I was describing my hotel to the couple who’s offer I so foolishly turned down. “I don’t ask for a lot in a hotel. I want free wireless and coffee in the lobby.” They started to laugh. “We have coffee in the lobby in our building,” they said.
Not only is there no coffee in the lobby, my room has no mini-bar. There’s no place for me to stow my leftovers, no little plastic cups of milk sealed with foil. There is a tired coffee pot in the bathroom with two packets of powdered creamer. I hate powdered creamer, it gives me the willies.
The porters and doormen and lobby attendents are charming and available, but twice I went to find services in the lobby restaurants and found… no one. Not a soul to be seen. Not when I went to get lunch in the bar, not when I went to get coffee at the deli. The free wireless we were promised doesn’t appear to be free (though it is) – you have to click a button agreeing to the 9.95 charge for the use to access the free wireless. (What? Huh?)
I have stayed at better appointed roadside chains. I remember a little place in Northern California where for 60 dollars a night, you got an immaculate room, a fridge with real milk for your coffee, and an enthusiastic Indian man making waffles for your breakfast at no extra charge. In the mallish hell of Tyson’s Corner’s I stayed in a place where the bed was so big and lush it could sleep three claustrophobic strangers in complete comfort. (I ain’t saying that’s what happened there, only that they had a mighty fine bed.)
The City Center, however. It’s a little tired. The decor could use an update, it smacks of 80s neutrality, and I would like a little more, oh, attention to detail, maybe? The drain stopper to my bathtub was laying on the floor of the bath like a bit of robot intestine. The coffee pot works but little bits on it are broken. The clock radio seems only interested in shouting at me in Spanish. The bar stinks of second hand smoke. The air conditioning unit makes a shocking amount of noise – I turned it off when I went to bed. The newspaper they left at my door was USA Today. USA Today?! Meh. All around meh.
There’s a Starbuck’s on the corner and a decent place to get a sandwich about a block away. And the location is stellar, easy walking to everywhere I want to go, good bus service, the whole deal. This is great, but it’s the little things that make the big difference. Damn my hesitance, my preconceptions of lollng about in swank splendour. Next time, I’m saying yes to an offer of a place to stay.
And there was a really grumpy man on the sixth floor when a group of us visited from the hostel – guess we weren’t swank enough. The hostel had actual free wireless and even had banana nut muffins. Score!