The experience of walking into a hotel room right after check in never gets old.
I understand that if some people travel a lot for work, hotel rooms may be nothing special; they’re just a place to sleep. Not for me. Even when I traveled regularly for work, I loved seeing what was behind the door.
If the room has two beds, which one is the better one? I’m convinced the beds will be different. That may just be my imagination, but I’ll test both to see which is softer or promises the best sleep experience. If I’m sharing the room with you, I may or may not subtly do this before claiming a bed for myself.
I always check out the room service menu. I rarely order room service, but I like seeing what the hotel has to offer. Are there local specialties? A recent Atlanta hotel offered some sort of peach dessert, which went unordered. How much does a burger go for? Is $15 really worth it? If I do order room service, I enjoy removing the metal plate cover and opening miniature bottles of ketchup and mustard. Hotels can score extra points if they provide little salt and pepper shakers as opposed to paper packets.
I enjoy loyalty/membership perks. I can’t remember what hotel it was that gave me a helium-filled balloon. I don’t know why they did. I was only there for two nights so it kind of seemed like a waste. Kimpton hotels usually make me smile with their welcome gift of a artful snack.
Kimpton hotels generally make me smile because there’s the chance of an animal-print robe. I don’t put it on (thanks newsmagazine shows for your exposes of germ-ridden hotel rooms), but I appreciate the notion that for a night or two I could be the type of person who wears loud animal prints, who orders glasses of champagne and who asks for the special yoga package to be sent up.
Maybe that’s why I like hotels. Not only are they a place to sleep while I adventure, but there’s something about them that allows for the possibility of being someone else.
What’s your favorite hotel story?