Tag Archives: Hotel

Craziness Begets Craziness

independence day

Oh Crap!

I had a wild and wacky dream last night. I think it may have been inspired by listening to the wild and crazy stories my daughter has been telling me lately. If you have not seen previous posts my daughter is mentally ill with bipolar and possibly schizophrenia.

The set up scenario in the dream was that the government had discovered that a huge alien armada of ships was on its way to earth and no one had any idea of their intentions. Was this an invasion or a welcome wagon? No one knew. Of course all of the usual talking heads were speculating wildly as to what was going to happen.

In preparation the government decided to gather a group of people to deal with this problem. I ended up getting drafted because of my skill set. Somehow having previous experience working at a railroad was valuable, something about being a good administrative organizer and being able to arrange transportation for large amounts of people. Maybe I was expected to figure out how many people would fit in a cattle car, who knows? A bunch of us with varying skills were drafted and lodged in a hotel, it was nice hotel, but it was against our will. The hotel was surrounded by armed guards of unidentifiable origin. There were no patches or insignia on their uniform to indicate what branch of the military they were from, if they were military. Maybe they were from some secret militia

Some of the men in the dream were Hugh Laurie, William Shatner, and my old boss Vince Van Horn from the railroad days. For some reason with nothing to do but drink and get silly, they all wanted to hang out with me and get in my pants. I just couldn’t understand it at all. I’m a silver haired 58-year-old married woman and furthermore I was not the slightest bit interested in any of them. I thought those days of men chasing me around the desk were long gone. Furthermore there were more important issues at hand then playing who gets the girl games.

As time passed while we were confined in this hotel, no organized work detail had been worked out yet so everyone spent the majority of their time hitting the sumptuous buffet and drinking like sailors. I kept pocketing and stashing nonperishable food items because I knew the aliens were coming and things were probably going to get a lot worse. The food and the booze were not going to last forever.

At one point during this debauchery Hugh Laurie snuck in my bed, spooned up behind me and tried to get it on. But he was so drunk he had erectile dysfunction. I pretended to be asleep or passed out so he finally gave up and slunk away. It was so incredibly silly that I didn’t intend to mention it and was pretty sure he would not either out of embarrassment over his lack of performance. Somehow later I figured out that he thought I was the lesbian character from the House TV program and he wanted to do the wild thing with a lesbian.

Things proceeded to get even more ridiculous. At one point there were about 15 people in my hotel room drinking and partying, and eating hot dogs. I have no clue where the hot dogs came from or why we were eating them since we could have had rack of lamb, champagne and strawberries delivered to the room on a silver tray by a waiter in full livery. I kept wondering why the hell they wanted to be in my room anyway. I didn’t like any of them particularly and really wanted to talk about what was important, to me anyway, which was the fact that aliens were on their way to earth and what were we going to do about it?

During this drunken revelry a super model teetered her way on six-inch heels, approached me and informed me that I couldn’t have William Shatner because he belonged to her. I told her I didn’t want him anyway and for her to knock herself out. She would be doing me a favor getting him the hell out of my room. I had been considering ripping off his toupee and beating him with it just to shut him up. She didn’t like the answer and proceeded to try to get in a cat fight with me. We wrestled around a bit in the kitchen and I got tired of it and finally grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and tossed her out of the room. It wasn’t that difficult since she was a skinny model and had the upper body strength of a starving kitten.

This nonsense went on for what seemed like days or weeks and finally the aliens showed up. The ship was gigantic, like some 15 miles across and hovered over the city just like in that movie Independence Day, staring Bill Pullman, Will Smith, and Jeff Goldblum. Not believing that the pandemonium could get any worse, it did. Everyone rushed out into the street to see the ship. Some were happy to see it and wanted to invite the aliens to our non-stop party. Others were screaming and running around in a mindless panic.

Then the rain started. The ship began spraying something over the city that looked like some sort of blue goo. People were laughing and dancing in this “rain” and rubbing the stuff all over their skin. I tried to explain to some of them that it was probably not a good idea to rub an unidentified substance sprayed from an alien ship into their skin but nobody paid any attention to me.

I finally threw up my hands and went to the hotel bar, walked behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of booze, I don’t remember what kind. I then found the stairs and descended as far down into the bowels of the hotel as possible and into a farthest dark corner of a sub-basement. I sat down took a huge sip from the bottle and lit a cigarette. As I exhaled I thought “Oh God, this is so going to suck big time.”

Thankfully at this point I woke up. I announced to Mr. Husband that he was lucky he rarely remembers his dreams. These crazy dreams indicate to me that I truly am a writer at heart. I can cook up stuff that makes horror movies seem tame in comparison.

The Bridge Too Far

Highway to hellThis story of the road trip to Key West seems to be unfolding in a nonlinear fashion. I learned a lot about myself this time around. Travel is always educational. Unfortunately it’s not always things you want to learn. But, I sort of wonder if perhaps some things are better not learned in the first place. Although I still have bronchitis so I may still be in an extremely whiny and frustrated mood.

The main thing I learned this time is that at the tender age of 57 I still stand back and let myself get talked into things that I know are going to be a BAAAAAD idea. And then volunteer to do part of the driving to get to the bad idea.

I’ve driven to Key West from New Orleans 2 times before and both times swore on my future grave that I was NEVER going to do it again. It’s a long boring stressful trip through a whole lot of nothing. Key West is fabulous, but driving there sucks on multiple levels.

So what do I do? I agree to another road trip to Key West from 500 miles further away and somehow tell myself that I have not in fact lost my freaking mind. I should have put my foot down and said “there is no way in hell that I am doing this, and may God have mercy on your soul. Don’t bother sending postcards because I’ve already been there, done that.” Or maybe something along the lines of “hey, I’m going to fly, meet ya there, have fun. Call me from the road if you live.”

I love my Mother-in-law but she is what she is. She still bosses her son around and hasn’t figured out that I don’t take well to getting bossed around. I put an end to my mother bossing me around by leaving home when I was 15 years old. I’m left feeling like I spent 2 weeks with a pillow slammed down over my face. Maybe that’s why my body decided to manifest bronchitis so I could have an excuse to say NO, I don’t want to cram another plate of food down my face or look at one more tree, statue or anything else without resorting to violence. I need a break!!

Part of the problem is that the Hubman has developed this sort of Siamese triplet mentality. A weird triangle relationship has manifested where he seems to think that he, his mother and I are an inseparable unit. It’s not doing our relationship much good. This was becoming an issue before we left on the trip.  If I didn’t go along with the program with his mother, then he won’t go either. It’s as if WE not HE is responsible for entertaining his mother at all times. I have my own mother to contend with, thank you very much. And that is not always an easy task.

As a result, this behavior continued and worsened on the trip and if I didn’t go along with the program then he would stay in the room and crank up the AC to zizz and in general take over everything and every square inch of the room. He wouldn’t do anything with his mother unless I came along, so the only solitude I managed to find was in a random hotel bathrooms or walking around the corner to alleys. The exception being the night I collapsed in the hotel.

My first mistake was forgetting the first rule of travel is that it’s supposed to be enjoyable for ALL members of the party. As defined by ALL members of the group. This doesn’t mean that everyone likes every single activity. Of course compromises should be made. But reluctantly embarking on a 3,000 mile road trip because one of the persons involved doesn’t want to be “inconvenienced” by an uncomfortable airplane seat is a recipe for resentments and disaster. Said person did absolutely none of the driving of course.

Another mistake was my standing by while the Hubman planned out the route and how long it “should” take us to get from point A to point B. Never in his life has he been on a road trip as an adult. He was a passenger in the back seat as a small child and went on road trips with his family. But that doesn’t even come close to counting as experience as an adult traveler. I kept trying to tell him that you need to factor in time to stop, walk around, eat, use the restroom, and just in general not be in the car for a while. Did he listen?  – NO. Did I put my foot down and insist? – NO.

Crazy things happen when traveling. Not everyone wakes up hung over in a hotel room in Bangkok with a tattoo on their face, but things do happen. Time to recuperate, process, be alone, and rev up for more adventures needs to be in there somewhere, or a trip can quickly transform into a death march.

So it seems we have some issues to resolve. Ya think?

Hotel Owners Should Be Required by Law to Live in a Hotel Room at Least 2 Weeks a Year!

Don't Touch My Stuff

Don’t Touch My Stuff

That’s right, I think that hotel owners and managers should be required to live in one of their hotel rooms, anonymously, 2 weeks a year WITH ANOTHER PERSON. Yep, if I made laws this would be one, except that I object to passing laws in general almost to the point that I could fit into the category of an anarchist.

The 10 laws that God came up with pretty much cover everything, in my opinion.  I’m not even going to get into tax laws because I will start foaming at the mouth and it’s not a pretty sight.

So, back to hotel rooms.  Seriously, who thinks up the arrangement in these damned rooms anyway? Did somebody take notes from old I Love Lucy episodes or what? You never even saw their bathroom so I guess it didn’t exist. 2 cutesy little beds and no one ever decided to sleep at different times than their partner. Lying back on a pillow that at first seems soft and then collapses to envelop your head in a cocoon of polyester is always a delight. The pillow also doubles as a sleep mask, and if your partner decides to end you after being stuck in the same bizarre room for days, they don’t have to work up a sweat to smother you in your sleep.

And then there is the bathroom. True, I am a minimalist at heart, but come on! Hotels now provide you with 85 towels and no place to hang even 1.  But there is the chirpy little sign that asks you to save the planet and only throw your towel in the floor if you want a new one. Well hell yeah I want a new one.  If you gave me some place to hang a towel, I wouldn’t need a new one now would I?  I am not gonna pick up a towel off any floor anywhere at any time and reuse it.

Ah, counter space in the bathroom. I turn into a raging territorial baboon when it comes to my little corner of the bathroom counter.  I travel lite and keep it small, but it doesn’t seem to help. My attitude is; don’t touch my stuff, don’t put your stuff on or in my stuff, don’t even think about laying a wet towel on my stuff, don’t put the book that you were reading on the toilet on my stuff, and don’t dig through my stuff looking for something because you forgot to bring stuff you needed! Mr. Hubman has not figured out how much this pisses me off after 10 years together. I love him but he’s a slow learner. Perhaps if I beat him senseless with my dop kit I can get through to him.

Electrical Overload

Electrical Overload

On to electrical outlets. These are usually conveniently located on the ceiling, behind the 300 pound chest of drawers with a TV bolted to the top, or directly next to the coffee maker that only works every other Tuesday from 2 to 3 am. Outlets seem to hate being located anywhere near where someone might actually want to use one. Like near the desk or bed to plug in your phone that you use as an alarm clock, calendar, reminder list and, in moments of extreme boredom, playing games. Is that too much to ask? If there are 2 people in the room and both have a phone and laptop, plan on charging something in the bathroom. But don’t use them in the tub. That’s the only advice I can give you on the subject.

Wireless internet is progress that many hotels are implementing, but don’t always hit the mark. If you plan on using wireless in your room while traveling, practice at home first. Try browsing the internet while perched on one foot on a pillow or exercise ball. After you master that, try doing it with the laptop as close to the ceiling as possible to get a signal. You get extra points if you can type without seeing the keyboard.

Mr. Husband is a big man, but not that big. At our hotel in Chicago he sat on the corner of the bed to put on his boots and the bed collapsed. I thought it was uproariously funny. It would have been a lot funnier if it collapsed while we were in it. He was not amused. I stopped feeling amused when I ended up being the one to go to the front desk and tell them that we broke the bed. The man I talked to was polite and non-judgmental, apologizing profusely. The woman standing off to the side rolled her eyes.  I wanted to tell her that as tourists who had walked a thousand miles we were too tired to break the bed in the usual manner, but I decided to just let her think whatever she wanted to think.

So there you have it. Hotel Managers take heed. Are your ratings down? Stay a week or 2 in your hotel and you will feel your customer’s pain and know exactly what to do to get those ratings up.

%d bloggers like this: