Hello Darkness: Bar Exam Hotel Rooms Gone Awry
I joked about the Fantasy Suites at the Radisson Valley Forge, here and in real life with friends. The no-window themed rooms. I joked that I wanted to stay in one of them, that I thought it would be really funny. I sort of wanted Cleopatra's Tent, or Gilligan's Island. I thought it would be like the race-car bed I never had.
And then I got my confirmation from the Radisson.
I am in a windowless room.
Who builds hotel rooms and leaves off the windows? I mean, isn't that sort of a basic amenity? Like, something you need to get a one-star rating from AAA?
The lovely woman at the Radisson I spoke with told me that they had nothing left except windowless rooms and smoking rooms. Of course, I would have appreciated them telling me this when I made my reservation, dutifully checking off "non-smoking, queen-sized bed."
There was no box to check for windows.
Hello, darkness, my old friend. Between the windowless room and my exile in northern New Jersey for the third day of the exam, well, I'm beginning to feel a bit like Job of the bar. Though I have been assured that my windowless room is not, in fact, a Fantasy Suite, but intead, is an executive suite. What executive would want a room with no windows?
But theoretically, it's on the first floor, instead of the 15th, and very far away from the ice machine, the lobby, or anything else that might prevent me from being perky for the bar. Or as perky as one might be able to be in a windowless room.
I'm like a little plant. I need sunlight to flourish, and I'm afraid this might make me wilty.
I thought about calling back, trying to get another room. But a friend of mine tells me that as long as I have the giant whirlpool bathtub, and the ability to rent movies, really, I won't need anything else. I'm going with that, trying to rally and concentrate on important things, like the Mailbox Rule or Shelley's Case or the Doctrine of Worthier Title. Really, I'm happy about my windowless room.
And by happy, I mean I feel like banging my head against the wall.
And then I got my confirmation from the Radisson.
I am in a windowless room.
Who builds hotel rooms and leaves off the windows? I mean, isn't that sort of a basic amenity? Like, something you need to get a one-star rating from AAA?
The lovely woman at the Radisson I spoke with told me that they had nothing left except windowless rooms and smoking rooms. Of course, I would have appreciated them telling me this when I made my reservation, dutifully checking off "non-smoking, queen-sized bed."
There was no box to check for windows.
Hello, darkness, my old friend. Between the windowless room and my exile in northern New Jersey for the third day of the exam, well, I'm beginning to feel a bit like Job of the bar. Though I have been assured that my windowless room is not, in fact, a Fantasy Suite, but intead, is an executive suite. What executive would want a room with no windows?
But theoretically, it's on the first floor, instead of the 15th, and very far away from the ice machine, the lobby, or anything else that might prevent me from being perky for the bar. Or as perky as one might be able to be in a windowless room.
I'm like a little plant. I need sunlight to flourish, and I'm afraid this might make me wilty.
I thought about calling back, trying to get another room. But a friend of mine tells me that as long as I have the giant whirlpool bathtub, and the ability to rent movies, really, I won't need anything else. I'm going with that, trying to rally and concentrate on important things, like the Mailbox Rule or Shelley's Case or the Doctrine of Worthier Title. Really, I'm happy about my windowless room.
And by happy, I mean I feel like banging my head against the wall.
posted by Me at 6:35 AM
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