If I could live in a hotel every night of my life, I would. Often people give me a funny look when this revelation rears its head. What’s not to like?
Here are five reasons why hotels are my favorite:
1. Ice & Air-Conditioning: I stayed in either a Super 8, Motel 6, Day’s Inn, or one of those other glorious hotel franchises, in Mobile, Alabama, and it may have been the biggest dump to ever charge money. Me and my friend Ben paid their outrageous 60-dollars-a-night cover, walked up the stairs, closed the door behind us, locked the twenty-five-or-so deadbolts on the door and did what everyone does when they first walk into a hotel room: jumped up and down on the beds.
After deciding that the beds would 100% collapse into thin air if we kept jumping, we went on a mission to procure some ice for our vodka-and-orange juice concoction that was to be drunk. One of the keys to staying in hotels is making sure you get as drunk as possible while lying in bed, because that is a beautiful thing. I will be damned if the shittiest hotel in America did not have some complimentary ice-cold ice in their lobby. How ice-cold is that? Speaking of ice-cold, we were staying in Mobile, Alabama in the midst of September; read: hot as balls. I will be damned if the shittiest hotel in America didn’t have an air-conditioning unit that was so fierce it forced me to keep all of my clothes on while sleeping.
That Super 8 or Motel 6 or Day’s Inn was the best.
2. Television With Shitty Cable Television- Ok, I lied about having stayed at the shittiest hotel in America. That honor undoubtedly goes out to The Isabella Motel in West Oakland. Having never stayed there, this claim might seem a bit dubious, until you understand that the sign out front advertises “Color TV” and “VCR”. I used to walk by this hotel several times a day when I first moved to Oakland, and I was propositioned several times by prostitutes, male and female, who were hanging out the window. I’m not sure this place was taking reservations for anything other than this type of illicit activity.
The point here, of course, is that even a hotel in West Oakland that may or may not still exist brings Color TV and a VCR to the table. And if you are trying to get as drunk as possible whilst lying on a bed, you’re going to need some really, really bad television to guide your quest.
3. Maids- Growing up, one of the chores I was asked to do every day was to make my bed. In fact, I’m confident it was the only chore I was asked to do every day. Thus, I hated making my bed, and rarely did. My OCD father would usually cave-in and make the damn bed for me. My only caveat about his making my bed was that he did not change the sheets every day, the way maids do in your hotel room.
Really, soak this in for a minute: maids come to your hotel room — being dutifully mindful of the potential “do not disturb” sign on the door, mind you — strip the sheets and replace them with new, glorious, ones that smell like angels and feel like heaven. I’m not sure I could picture a more ideal scenario.
But wait, there’s more! Stop here if you want to keep your head from exploding, because this is some serious shit: those same maids come into your hotel room and change your towels every day. Basically, they are encouraging you to shower two or three times a day, lest those fresh towels go to waste. That would be a damn shame.
This brings us to the all-important numero cuatro:
4. Hot Shower- Another over-share about my childhood: we had a shitty water heater growing up. I don’t know anything about it other than the fact that the water would get cold after about four minutes. While this is obviously appalling, apparently most people in the world do not have access to hot showers. I don’t necessary believe that to be true — after all, they would likely be dead by the age of 12 under such conditions, making their society difficult or impossible to sustain — I do know what it is like when your shower turns cold: a frigid nightmare. No human being, in the history of staying at a hotel, has ever had that issue because hotel showers stay sensationally hot. I have been known to have to turn the heat down on hotel showers. Can you believe that?
5. Jacuzzi/pool situation- I’m driving from Vermont to Austin. I’m in the middle-of-nowhere Kentucky when my beloved Cavalier breaks down. I call Triple-A. Triple-A tows me to Bowling Green, KY. We are forced into staying at a Day’s Inn, and by that I mean we won the fucking lottery and were fortunate enough to rest our heads at the Bowling Green Day’s Inn. Oh, the amenities: all of the thing listed above, plus a pool and hot tub. Don’t mind if I do dip my toes in, don’t mind if I do.
Oh, and did I mention that there was a liquor store across the street? And a diner next door? And the NATIONAL CORVETTE MUSEUM A FEW HUNDRED YARDS DOWN THE ROAD? Don’t mind if I do.
Oh, please god, let me die in a hotel.