Saturday, April 9, 2011

I hate upscale hotels.

I have had to stay in a hotel several times over the years and I really don't like it too much. Especially expensive ones. Give me a reasonably clean Motel 6 and I am happy.

For one thing they are generally whole lot more expensive than what I would pay for if I was footing the bill, but I guess that's OK. I wasn't.

The other thing is that I have had horrible experiences with maids and room service over the years.

The other thing is that for some idiotic reason they starched the sheets and it was like trying to sleep on something along the stiffness of cook's whites and I don't like that much at all. The truth is that I do not like cotton sheets very much. I prefer flannel or something soft, yet for some reason expensive hotels think that making people sleep on cardboard is proof positive that their place is first rate.

Then there was the time I was living in a hotel for 2 weeks while baby sitting a damaged vessel several years ago and I was baby sitting the 2100 to 0900 watch. This meant I was a day sleeper.

This also meant the maids kept waking me up at just the right time to ruin my day. They would knock on the door at precisely the time of my sleep cycle where I could not get back to sleep without the use of massive quantities of hard drugs. Of course, this was out of the question. The premature wake-up left me grouchy all day.

The 'Do not disturb' signs meant nothing to them.

Telling the front desk to have the maids simply drop off a couple of towels by the door every couple of days did no good. The maids would still knock on the damned door to see if they could do anything for me.

I posted a sign on the door that read: 'Day Sleeper. Go Away!'

The maid knocked, I answered and the maid asked me when I planned on waking up so she could clean the room.

That did it.

In a fit of pique, I posted a sign on the door that read: 'The occupant of this room is a mad veterinarian that has stolen an injured grizzly bear from the Philadelphia zoo that he is nursing back to health. The bear has a toothache and a sore a$$hole. He is sleeping now. If you wake him up you are on your own."

Apparently the maid found someone that could read English and had them read the sign and she left me alone, which was fine until the front desk called to see if I had an animal in the room.

"Just a mad dog," I replied. "Me."

Now, I had been there for a week and had another week coming and I wasn't going to put up with that for another seven days so I simply made an appointment with the manager and told him my plight.

"Tell the maids anything you want," I said. "Tell them I am Vito Corleone and use the room to hide bodies in, Tell them I escaped from an insane asylum. Tell them anything. Simply have them come in now, change the sheets, leave 14 towels and not come back until I leave!"

Ten minutes later the maid changed my sheets, left me a stack of towels and when she saw me the next time, she avoided me like I was Charles Manson, which was fine by me.

Last year I found myself on a similar deal and it started all over again.

Enter the computer age. I broke out the laptop and went to work. I wrote a letter to the manager.

Dear Sir,

You might recognize me from the GEICO commercials. I am the cave man in the background.

I got the job because of my experience. I lived in a cave for quite a while. I was born and raised in one.

During my period of cave dwelling, I learned to sleep on soft things like buffalo robes and flannel. I have never been able to adapt to sleeping on starched sheets. Please send me a couple of soft blankets, a week's worth of towels and make sure that no maids come to my door at any time during my stay as they have a knack of waking me at precisely the wrong time.

As a former cave dweller, I can assure you that I am capable of taking care of myself and prefer to. I need no help whatsoever. Seeing the hotel has central heating, it will not be necessary for me to build a fire on in the middle of the room so there is no worry about that. I will need no fire wood.

Incidentally, a while back I tried out for the Dos Equis advertising job as 'Most Interesting Man in the World' where I took second place only because that bum Jonathan Goldsmith put Grecian formula in his beard.

That makes makes me the Second Most Interesting Man in the World.

If you would care to buy the Second Most Interesting Man in the World a beer (anything but Dos Equis) and discuss this matter, please feel free to call XXX-XXX-XXXX at anytime. If I don't answer, simply leave a voice message.


I put the letter on a flash drive, as I had no printer and got the desk clerk to print it and I put it in an envelope and told her to give it to the manager ASAP.

I had just gotten back to my room and my cell phone went off and it proved to be the manager.

He asked to meet me in the lobby, and I agreed.

Three minutes later, he led me into the bar and offered me a beer, and then changed the offer to dinner where he confessed that he wanted to meet the person that had just written the letter he had just read. I guess he had enjoyed reading it and we had a delightful dinner together.

I told him what I wanted and had a most pleasant stay. Nobody bugged me for the entire week. I was as happy as a clam and came and went as I had to. More important than that, I could sleep in the day without interruption.

I have saved a copy of the letter and if I have to spend more than a single night in a fancy hotel, I'll just print it up and use it again.

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