When I wrote some of this content, we had just found out that our family would be growing by one traveler later in the summer! I know that doesn't put really anything into any kind of context, but that's okay for now. I can't wait to share my family travel adventures with you. Traveling with little ones is a special kind of nope that I think everyone should experience at some point in order to build personal character or something. It's always good to be publicly shamed and despised in order to humble oneself.
But before all of that, I realized that I barely scratched the surface of hotel stay stories, and so I'll do my best to summarize my experiences in this installment so that we can move on to some of our other exciting travel categories such as:
* Flights with toddlers (and other hairy beasts)
* Fun with layovers
* Random things found in airplane seat pockets
* Guess what that smell is
* Luggage Scavenger Hunt (Patent Pending by "Poo Knighted" Airlines*)
* Strategies for 5 Minute or less connecting flights
* Rudest airports in America
* Seat stains that look like celebrities
* Elbow strengthening exercises to help win that armrest
* 10 things that will get you kicked off a plane/arrested
* Funniest things that pilots say after near-catastrophic flight disasters
* Games you can play while waiting 2 hours on the tarmac for takeoff
* Easy ways to disguise/discard urine (related to the above)
* Top 5 things you don't want to see out of an airplane window
* 3 words to say to an airsick person that will make them vomit (Spoiler..one is "Mayonaise")
* Simple ideas to keep the person next to you on a plane from engaging in conversation
* 8 funny things to do while going through airport security that will get you detained
* Worst airports based on my perception of potential fecal matter generally present everywhere
* 5 ½ Quick ways to engage interactively with Air Marshalls
* Where's My Car? and other fun airport activities
* 3 Reasons to IMMEDIATELY jump out of a moving taxi cab
* Funny things to leave in your hotel room for the hotel cleaning services to find
* Things people do in rental cars that they would never do in their own car
* Most common expletives yelled by passengers when a flight is cancelled
* Strangest elevator interactions
* Top cities that should be voted out of the United States
This list is not a comprehensive one by any means, but it's a great start. Please leave a comment on one or more topics that intrigue you.
And without further adieu, my top 3 hotel experiences from what I can remember right now after 4 beers into a nasty layover. Know that once I write these, someone will inevitably say to me, "what about that one time blah blah blah?" at which point I will say, "You are right! I totally forgot blah blah blah because I have a terrible memory, and also I have so much stuff happen that nothing really stands out to me as an exceptional situation anymore."
#3 Haunted Houston
The tunnel grew darker as my tiny train bumped along further and further underground. It reminded me of those little kiddie trains that drive around shopping malls during the holidays, and in my head I could hear the same ice cream truck creepy songs playing and echoing in the darkness. Some of the notes to the song... out of key or missing entirely. I looked at all of the vacant seats behind me, and I became uneasy. I struggled to remember the exact moment that I stopped seeing other travelers, and I didn't recall anyone else walking towards the train. I was riding the underground train at the Houston airport that I was told would take me to the Houston Marriott. I don't remember who told me this, and perhaps I had read it somewhere? It's entirely possible that I jumped into an abandoned mine cart.
The wheels were grinding beneath me, and I was jolted forward as a robotic female voice told me to exit the train. The doors flung open and the train sat silent in the dark. I paused and looked around at the emptiness. There were no diagrams on the train, nor signs at this stop that would give me any clue as to where I was. The recording played slightly louder over the distorted speakers, "Last Stop". The recorded voice echoed out past the flickering fluorescent lights, and continued out into the darkness. I leaned forward and strained my neck to look at the dark surroundings, hesitant to make any movement that would give my location away. The voice repeated that it was time for me to exit. It was my time indeed.
I cautiously crouched through the doorway of the train, dragging my lifeless bag behind me. The doors of the train immediately slammed shut, and the train rigidly squealed and sped around the corner and instantly disappeared. The air was that heavy, uncirculated underground air and I felt like I was breathing through a pile of stale dirt. It was though I had been buried alive. It was suddenly more quiet than when you are in a room of complete silence, as though my ears just turned off. You know that kind of quiet? So quiet that there is a high pitched ringing tone? I slowly exhale with a long, "ummmmmm..." partially just to check if my hearing was working. I quickly spun my head around, just to make sure someone wasn't creeping up behind me out of the darkness with a rag soaked with chloroform, as they so often do in these types of situations.
There was a soft glow in the middle of these three walls that formed a triangle with gaps in between, and it seemed to be the only landmark in a series of dark tunnels and caves. Disoriented, I walked toward the light. This is where I would patiently wait, if I were a killer. The left wheel of my luggage squeaked loudly, echoing in this dark, open space, giving away my location. I stopped walking a few times, so I could listen into the surrounding darkness. I felt like I was six years old again, and walking into the dark closet of my childhood bedroom, which was filled with the shiny open eyes of creepy stuffed animals. In the night, even the cutest, cuddly teddy bear can be terrifying.
As I approached the light, I hear laughing in the distance. The laughing grows as I reach the light. There's a worn down sign which reads, "AIRPORT FREIGHT ELEVATORS ONLY". Am I in the wrong place?
I left the sanctuary of the lighted triangle, and walked towards the dark as the laughing grows louder still. In the shadows, I see a sign that reads "Marriott", and an arrow pointing me further into the darkness. I push on, and walk past an abandoned sock, which is laying lifelessly on the carpet. Perhaps it is the sock that goes with the one shoe that you sometimes come across on a busy freeway. Who knows? In my mind, it belonged to a zombie that was dragging a right leg. Or a wrong leg. Or a leg that didn't even belong to them. Or a leg that was broken off of a nightstand which would inevitably be used to smash over the back of my head and knock me unconscious as I go to investigate a strange noise in the opposite direction. Or a huge turkey leg from a renaissance fair which one could argue could also be used to knock someone completely unconscious, not to mention the shear terror of being subjected to a renaissance fair against your will. Could the laughing be a Ren Fair? Could the laughing be a crowd of people that came before me that were sequestered in a secret room just to watch people walk through this creepy death tunnel? I must have been standing and staring at this one shoe for a ridiculous amount of time while all these imbecilic thoughts dragged their feet through my brain. Brains. That's something that a zombie repeats ad nausium, and I didn't hear this, only the disturbing laughter.
In the distance I see a staircase that the laughter is funneled through. As I get closer, I realize that it is an escalator, and I can't make out what is waiting for me above. I'm hesitant, but find the courage to pull myself onto the first step, and the laughter gets so loud that it is unnerving. When you step onto an escalator, you are kind of committed, unless you are athletic. I felt like I was neither, and both at the same time. Whatever that means. If this was going to be the end, at least there was a convenient escalator.
I manage to get to the top and check-in to my room and have a huge plate of chicken nachos before going to bed. The end. 😂
In all seriousness, this is one F###-ing creepy place! They say the hotel was built on an old Indian burial ground. That sounds like a cliché haunted whatever thing to claim. All I know is that random weird things happened while I was in my room. I was in the room the entire time until I left. That last sentence is probably the dumbest and most obvious thing that I've ever typed, and I'm going to leave it there. What I meant to say, is that the entire time I stayed at the hotel, I didn't leave my room.
I got to my room late in the evening, and I wanted to take a shower and wash the travel off of me. The steam from the shower clung to the bathroom mirror, and a face emerged which scared the shit out of me when I saw it while stepping out of the shower. Someone that stayed here before me probably drew that with their finger, I thought. Then I noticed a spot on my towel after I pulled it away from drying my face. The spot was red. Blood? I examined myself and couldn't find any cuts. Ok, so that's weird.
I went to iron a shirt for the morning, and I leaned the ironing board against the wall after taking it out of the wardrobe. That's when I saw the writing underneath the ironing board. "Run!" It said. Also written on the frame of the ironing board was the number "5150", which is a code that is used by law enforcement to report a suspect that is crazy. Seems like an unusual thing to have underneath an ironing board. Who would ever see it? Me.
Then there were the strange sounds through the night, and the singing that I could hear through the air vent. I didn't sleep much that night. The room would be freezing cold one minute, then muggy and humid the next. There were lots of little things that made me feel uneasy. In the morning I packed up my things. I could swear I put the same pair of pants into my suitcase twice, or maybe I was just really tired from not sleeping in this creepy-ass room.
If I'm ever in the mood to be completely creeped out, I know what hotel I'm booking!
#2 The Key to being locked out in New Orleans
I stayed at this trendy New Orleans hotel that basically overlooked Bourbon Street. For no reason whatsoever, a parade of neon lit bicycles towing loud boom box radios appeared instantaneously outside my window on the street below at about ten o’clock at night. I wanted to document the situation on video, and remembered that there is a large picture window just outside my room at the end of the hallway, where I would get a much better angle of the shenanigans. There was no end to this parade in sight, so I knew I had plenty of time to leave my room and get to the window and still get plenty of video.
For the next part, I should probably set the stage better. See, this parade of fools had woken me up from a deep sleep. In a half-awakened fog, the idea of running out of my room to get video of the disturbance for other people's amusement seemed like the best idea I'd had since falling asleep.
I walked quickly out of my room, and into the hallway, barefoot...pj shorts that are really more like boxer briefs...no shirt. Click! Said the door behind me.
There's a seventh sense of the human body that most people have, and it is knowing the exact second that you have mistakenly locked yourself out of something. This wouldn't be the first time I forgot my room key inside my room, but it was definitely the first time without the majority of my clothes on. I take that back, there was one time in Las Vegas with my wife, but that time was intentional because it was funny, and it was my birthday.
In denial, I push on the door, then I turn the door handle. I try turning the handle with my other hand, which seemed like an idea at the time. I look around on the floor to see if I maybe had dropped my room key card nearby, but the only thing I found was a busy carpet design and self-loathing. I'm not going to panic. Most hotels have a phone by the elevators where you can call the front desk to have someone come up and help you. I sneak down the hallway and hug the wall as I come around the corner towards the elevator. Please don't let me run into a family on their vacation, or a police officer that got a call about a crazy half naked guy running through hallways, or a heard of nuns that would no doubt demand I immediately repent for whatever transgression I was no doubt in the middle of participating in. What is a heard of nuns called anyway?
I get to the elevator bank, and there's no phone. There's not even a small oval table that a phone would be able to sit upon. I'm such an idiot, how did I not know this? I need to pay more attention to the world as I walk around in it...half-naked or otherwise.
So what is my play here? Turns out I really am an idiot, because I've had my cell phone in my hand this entire time! Remember? This was my tool to capture the parade of fools on video, because that was important 5 minutes ago. I'm lucky that I had my phone with me, because this is a perfect opportunity to take a selfie and text my wife (who is about a thousand miles away and sleeping) that I locked myself out of my hotel room with hardly any clothes on. Better yet, I can post this to Facebook!
Now what I also could have done if I took 2 damn minutes to process this, is that I could have used the phone to call the hotel and ask someone to let me back in my room. Right? I'll make a note of that for next time. Instead, what I did was hop myself into the elevator like a sex offender, and hit the button to send myself down to any unsuspecting guest waiting for the elevator. I was an offensive ticking time bomb that was about to destroy the evening of anyone that might have their eyes trained on the elevator doors.
So here's the fun part. This elevator doesn't go to a hotel lobby. Oh no, that would be much too easy. This elevator goes out to a big open area that faces the street. It was one of those big open areas that people would gather and have drinks and such near one of the fancy fire pits while they judge people as they walk out of the highly visible elevator. So to get to the lobby of this hotel, I must navigate through this big open area, past the parking garage, out to the busy street, and fifty feet or so walking down the sidewalk of the street would be the door to the hotel lobby.
The other thing that I failed to mention is that this was a work trip, and I was staying at the same hotel as 15 field upper managers who I had to give a presentation to the next day. All of these managers just happened to be dining at the restaurant that was attached to the hotel lobby, which had a bar attached, and I was absolutely certain that they would all still be there at this hour. All of this information was recalled by my brain just as I step out of the elevator. I hear talking outside and I freeze just as the elevator doors clunk themselves shut. I can't do this! I spin around and hit the elevator button, but it was already on the move. That means someone is coming back down! Maybe someone from my work? I wanted to jump into the bushes, but something told me that a half-naked guy hiding in the bushes is waaaaaaay more of a terrible idea than being half naked in the open. Every scenario of being discovered in the bushes in my present attire, or lack thereof, resulted in bodily injury to me, or the loss of my freedom for a day or two depending on the bail amount.
That's when I see it. A side door that I'm hoping can get me into a hallway that connects to the building that the lobby is in. I streak across the outside garden area and fly through the door into the hallway that leads to the restrooms of the hotel restaurant. As I looked down the other end of the hallway, I could see the shiny marble corner of the lobby check-in desk. Yes!
I confidently approached the desk, and blurted out, "you'll never guess what happened to me". Without skipping a beat, the lanky guy behind the counter replies, "you got locked out of your room?" Lucky guess. "I'll need your room number and your identification." He said in a matter of fact tone. "I don't have anything on me, like almost literally nothing on me" I said with and uncomfortable chuckle. At first there was no reaction, and then the guy gave a snort. It was like a joke hand grenade that had a delay. "That's fine sir, we can have security escort you to your room and check your ID when you get your door open."
Great, so now I'll be escorted by security like I'm being detained. I don't know how I managed to do it, but I somehow got from my room, down the elevator, through the outside open garden, down the busy restaurant hallway, to the front hotel lobby and back to my room again without being seen by anyone else outside of a hotel lobby associate and a security guard and all while wearing mostly no clothing! I’m sure there is some sort of lesson to be learned here, but I’m not entirely sure what it is. And so the chances are good that something like this will happen again.
#1 Bed Buddies at the Chariott*
* This incident is 100% true, although the name of this hotel chain has been changed as to avoid any type of litigation. Any resemblance to an existing hotel name is either purely coincidental, or done purposefully.
I checked into the Chariott hotel in Westchester, NY on a hot summer night. Let’s say for the purpose of geography, that this particular Chariott hotel could be located anywhere near 670 White Plains Road in Tarrytown, New York. There wasn’t anything that stood out as I checked into the hotel, so I’m going to guess that it was something like this:
"Thank you for being a member of Chariott Rewards, we appreciate your business. Will you be parking a car with us this evening? Great, that will be $20 that will be added conveniently to your bill, so don’t feel obligated to pull together cash for me in the moment. There are some crusty pastries available only until 9am for a nominal fee, and some burnt coffee available all day in the lobby. If you choose to save the environment, you can help our profit margin by hanging this sign on your door that says that you don’t want your room cleaned. If you do this, we will add 10 reward points per night to your rewards account. If you choose not to, well, we all know that you hate the Earth, and that you are also a huge asshole. Elevators are behind you and to the right. Enjoy your stay.”
Fast-forward… at about 2AM, I’m suddenly awakened by this itchy feeling. It is hard to explain, but it felt like sand slowly poured over my legs, then moving up to my stomach. I reached for the light next to my bed, and these small moving dots. EVERYWHERE! I threw back the bed sheets to find that I was completely covered in tiny bugs. I jumped up like a person that was engulfed in flames, and leaped across to the other bed and immediately started sweeping my entire body with the palms of my hands. There was a concentration of moving dots coming from behind the night stand, and when I pulled it back to investigate, I nearly gagged when I discovered a bug nest attached to the wall like the final scene from the Aliens movie.
I picked up the hotel phone (after flicking a few creatures off of it) and called to the front desk. “Um, I’m covered in bugs up here in my room!” There was a pause as though the person needed to check a list of situations from a flip chart to know what the appropriate response was supposed to be. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I know that you are a valued Chariott Rewards Member, and we strive to make your stay and enjoyable one. I will send maintenance up immediately to address the situation.”
So several minutes go by, as I began naming each one of my new friends. I started to notice that each of them had individual personalities and hobbies. I realized that more than fifteen minutes had gone by. I had already packed up all of my belongings before I called down once again.
“Um, hi. I called about the bugs in my room?”
“Yes sir, can I confirm your room number is (whatever whatever)?”
“Is there more than one room calling about a bug colony that is taking over the world starting with this one hotel room?”
“No sir, someone should be on their way to spray.”
“So, are you planning to spray my room and then I just curl back up in it and go to sleep??”
“Would you like to be moved to another room?”
At this moment, I almost thought that I was still sleeping. Would I like to be moved to a non-bug room? Let me think for a moment.
“Actually, is there a manager around? I’m beside myself that no one seems all too concerned about a call about bugs encasing a person’s body while they sleep.”
There’s a knock at the door, and I set down the phone to answer. A man casually walks in with a small tank in hand, and asks where the “problem” is.
“Oh yeah. Ok, wow!” Was the response.
The phone rings, and I’m told by the night manager that I was being moved to a presidential suite at “no charge”. No extra charge for free bugs, and relocating to another room at 3AM? No please, I won’t have it, let me at least toss a clean Abraham Lincoln your way!
And so I schlep my stuff up to the suite, which was actually very nice. But here’s the thing, I’m sleeping in the room and checking out in less than 4 hours! I don’t even get to enjoy staying in the room.
In the morning, a bill is quietly slipped underneath my door like a ransom note. There was no apology letter. Not even a post-it note that just said “sorry” with a sad face next to, or underneath it. They didn’t even discount my room, and the full parking fee was still attached. I went down to the desk to check out, and approached the gentleman that was at the counter. I asked if I could speak to the manager, and he assured me that he WAS the manager, and continued about his business. I then said, “I’m the one that had the bug problem last night.” He then said that he would be right with me, and he was extremely busy. He continued clicking away at his computer for nearly 5 minutes before even acknowledging that I was standing in front of him.
I would later call the corporate office of Chariott, and was given several dozen reward points for my experience. It pays to be a member!
So that's my three hotel experiences that come to mind. If you know of a funnier hotel experience of mine that I've told you about, I'd love to hear about it. Again, let me remind you that I have a terrible memory. Also, my memory isn't that great. Plus I can't always remember stuff. Of course, I'll probably forget to write about it even after you remind me, so it would be best to add it to the comments below.
You know what? I'm finding that I feel obligated to make this chapter the longest one yet, since it has been a while since I've written. How about we explore some of my hotel observations and pet peeves, in a random and incoherent oder? Also, the following items are in no particular set of pattern or importance.
Hotel Towels
Back in the day, hotel towels were luxurious and thick. The thought conjures up images of someone wrapped up all cozy in a head-to-toe white fluffy cloud, emblazoned with a proud hotel logo or monogram. In your head just now, you may have envisioned a matching pair of elegant bath slippers. Or perhaps you pictured a guy with a smoking pipe and a monocle make a comment to his wife about how his fresh towel feels like a hug from Jesus while the "Snuggle" bear from those old fabric softener commercials does a cute backflip into a laundry basket full of bouncy, thick towels.
The reality is that hotel towels today are the equivalent of the scratchy half of Velcro, only not as soft. The painful, post shower exfoliation which occurs when attempting to dry off with a 150 grit hotel towel is enough to make anyone look like a burn victim with a healthy red glow as you head off to your business meeting. Who needs a razor to shave anymore, when you have a nice, sharp, quality hotel towel? It's no wonder lotion is also complimentary, although I would argue that government regulations should require Neosporin or other healing salve be made available after enduring a sadistic hotel towel dry off.
The fact that the towels look like 3 sheets of rough paper towel folded over, should be a warning sign. Most of the time, the sad hotel towel looks like those 1980's gas station bathroom cloth hand towels from those dispensers that used to roll up back into itself on a loop. Remember those? Well, apparently when they retired those due to public health concerns, the thin cloth rolls got cut into 3 ½ foot sections and shipped off to hotels all across the country as towels. I guess the bright side is that at least now they might occasionally get thrown into a washing machine. Let me emphasize the word "might" in my last sentence.
Coffee
Hotel rooms without coffee makers should be illegal. Occasionally I come across one without a coffee maker readily visible. At this point, I'll toss the room like a prison guard until I find it. I open drawers, lift mattresses, check closets, pull up carpet and floorboards, punch holes in drywall, and eventually shake my fist into the air while curled up on the floor screaming "Why?!!!". If your hotel room comes sans coffee maker, you are permitted by law to urinate anywhere in the room that you please, just like a brand new puppy in a house of white fluffy carpet.
But before you go relieving yourself throughout the hotel room, make sure you check all of the places that a coffee maker shouldn't be. One time, I found a compact coffee maker that was folded up somehow into the size of a credit card underneath the bathroom sink and behind a fancy velvet bag that contained a dollar store hair dryer. Fool me once, something something something. Fool me twice, and I'm even more pissed off. Fool me three times? Well, let's just say it's best to just put a damn coffee maker where a coffee maker belongs! Ain't nobody got time for a coffee maker scavenger hunt with no energy, leave all the fun and games for a post caffeine celebration.
Wi-Fi
Internet connectivity is no longer a mystical modern marvel. There was a time when people were tethered to a sad, blue CAT5 cable hanging lifeless and limp from a wall closest to a desk within the hotel room. And when you would plug that cable into your laptop, bingo! Nothing would happen. Flash forward 10 years, and you can get random free wi-if signals at just about every restaurant, coffee shop, church, library, lemonade stand and meth lab across America. So to my dismay, I recently stayed in a hotel that charged $29.99 per day for what they considered "high speed internet access" at 5 MBPS. That's $900 per month! I'm pretty sure at that rate, I should own a percentage of the Internet. I wanted to take some of the Internet from my room and sell it to neighboring hotel guests at a significant discount. I implore everyone to give a shitty review to ANY hotel that charges even a dime for Internet access. Power to the people!
Mold
Have you ever walked into a hotel room for the first time and think to yourself, "So this must be what an ancient mummy must smell like?"
Moldy rooms aren't exclusive to no-name desert truck stop motels, I've stayed in hotel rooms from many well-known national chains that could be mistaken for an episode of Hoarders if you had walked in wearing a blindfold. It's a very distinct musty, moldy, mildew mixture that dances about your nostrils and tickles your taste buds. Sometimes it might be a heavy curtain that was soaked in rainwater from a window leak long ago. Other times, the source is a spilled soft drink or half eaten sandwich that no one gave a damn to face off with behind some heavy piece of imitation wood furniture. But MOST of the time, the issue resides in the bathroom, where countless travelers enjoy steaming showers, or let hot water run in the shower until their entire hotel room becomes a Swedish sauna.
After a while, mold will join the bathroom festivities. If you look hard enough on your next hotel stay, you will probably see it. There will be telltale signs of bubbling paint, or unmatched tiles, or fresh caulking. Typically, a hotel will simply paint over the mold, which usually originates in the corner of the ceiling above the shower. That paint will eventually resent the ceiling, and peel itself off and jump in flakes to its death. A maintenance person will make their rounds and put another coat of paint over the problem. Same goes for tile grout, and same goes for floors where they meet the walls near the shower. Great, now you have another thing to worry about and inspect when you stay in a hotel!
Pillows
Many hotels have perfected the precise thickness of pillow to provide you an experience where one pillow is like laying your head directly on the mattress, while two pillows props your head up at a 90 degree angle, and you aren’t able to move your head the next day because of the pain. I’ve come to find that hotels are also starting to mix new and old pillows, feathered and foam pillows, and so you never really know how to attack the equation. Do you rest your head on two feather pillows? Just one foam pillow and your arm underneath? Two foam pillows and an Advil in the morning? The combinations will make your head spin… if you have any neck mobility in the morning, that is.
Iron & Ironing Board
Ironing has become my nemesis recently. Cheap irons and cheap ironing boards are another pet peeve. First off, where the hell are all the wall plugs?? If you manage to find a wall plug, you’ll find that you may need to battle with the ironing board to get it out of the closet, or to get it to unfold. Then, when I use the steam function of the iron, and it shoots chalk out all over my black shirt! Who the #### put milk in the water reservoir? And one time when I stayed in a hotel in Las Vegas, the iron was CHAINED to the ironing board! It made it impossible to iron anything, because it would only reach about five inches in any direction.
I hope you enjoyed this installment. I do have many more hotel pet peeves and experiences to share, but I think you’ve had enough for now. I’ve got many other stories to write!
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