“Hello Greg!
Would you like to review your recent stay at Quality Inn?”
Friends,
First of all please allow me to say how much I appreciate
you requesting my feedback on my recent hotel stay. I had always quietly suspected that you were interested in
my experiences and you were not just a faceless internet travel reservations
company. This correspondence to me
today only solidifies the deep and rich feelings of affection I have for your
company. You care about me, not as
a customer, but as a man. In a cold
world where a true connection is almost impossible, you have only confirmed the
deep feelings we have for one another.
I thank you. I wish we
could have a long embrace where neither of us spoke, but only let the moment
pass between us. I wanted you to
know that.
My recent stay…
yes, where do I begin? That
evening we had played a rock and roll show in Erie Pennsylvania. Being people involved in the travel
industry, you are no doubt well versed on Erie and the wild underground rock
culture that is well hidden from view of the unsuspecting public. There are some true degenerates there,
as you no doubt know. However, I
use the word “degenerate” as a term of affection in this case. It is not often in today’s world where
one can perform heartfelt personal songs written in an Ohio basement to a room
stuffed full of people in the depths of massive LSD trips. From my vantage point, it appeared that
a few of these people needed a psychedelic captain, as the trip we took them on
was not the one they had intended. A man in a cowboy hat wildly yelling into a
microphone about The Devil, the Consequence of Choice, and cat pajamas is not
something many of them were prepared for.
I was unaware that LSD had made a comeback. As Erie often stubbornly holds onto the
past, maybe it never left. More
likely it is a case of these rugged individualists making their own fun in a
dreary rainy evening. I know that
The Kids like smoking marijuana of increasing strength nowadays. The wise sage Chris Crofton recently
noted that young people today like to smoke pot that makes them feel like
radioactive coconut crabs. I
suppose when you feel like a radioactive coconut crab on a daily basis, when
the weekend hits, you want to take it up a notch. I think that a few of these folks greatly underestimated the
rocket ship they climbed onto. I
have a slight regret about telling one of them I could see into the future like
a witch. That was a lot for this
kid to deal with on a Friday. I
hope she got home OK.
My game plan was to drive back to be crisp and refreshed for
a wine event on Saturday. As a man
that is believed to know what he is talking about in regards to wine quality, I
can’t be sleep deprived calling some crappy Central Coast California Cabernet
“transcendent” when it’s something that shouldn’t be used to wash your
car. Look, no one should even use
the word “transcendent” in regards to wine anyway, as that only confirms that
negative perceptions about so-called “wine experts”. I’m not above pulling out fluffy language if I’m tired as
shit though. I will bluff my way
through a room of people if I have to.
It’s only because you and I are so close that I will admit this to you. There are many dark corridors in my
soul. I know you accept me for who
I am, so I will unburden myself with this painful admission. Let’s get down to
brass tacks, shall we?
Just to check my options, I checked your helpful mobile
app. It was there I discovered the
bargain rate of $46 for the Quality Inn.
Despite some trepidation, I clicked “accept” and locked the band in for
a night so I could avoid the overnight drive. I knew this would not be a four star experience, but I was
just looking for six solid hours of sleep in an atmosphere where I wouldn’t
question if a prostitute had been murdered in the bed within the last 48
hours. I think $46 should allow me
that piece of mind. As the hotel
was nowhere close to an airport, that only confirmed my gut feeling of
minimizing the potential of sleeping on a murder site. I drove us to the hotel with a serene
mindset.
I could immediately tell the Quality Inn was one of those
franchises that was owned by an Indian immigrant. I wish I understood why there exists a population of people
in India that decide their path in life is to move to the United States to buy
a two star hotel and then put as little money as possible into the upkeep. There must be seminars in New Delhi
where a classroom of people are studiously taking notes like “Do not replace
any carpet. Regardless of the
circumstance, do not update any plumbing.
Make sure and buy the absolute cheapest soap for the rooms.” I almost took one of the business cards
from the thoughtfully provided six stacks of cards near the front door to tell
Mr. Patel what a fine job he was doing maintaining the lowest possible
standards as per his seminar teachings.
A pointlessly confrontational desk clerk checked us in. Walter was like a flesh and blood
version of Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. Despite Sugar’s somewhat charming plea for a bag of pretzels
from the outsized snack box visible behind the counter, Walter would not
surrender the .11 cent snack.
“That is for preferred members.
You are NOT preferred members.
You have a pre paid internet rate.” Walter then told us the only food available was from the
dated vending machines down the hallway.
Sugar then made another case for a comp snack, was refused, and received
4 quarters change from the visibly annoyed Walter.
When we arrived at the 1990-styled snack machine, we
discovered it would not accept coins.
Walter gave Sugar change knowing damn well it would prevent her from
getting the snack she was targeting.
Walter has his little games.
Luckily for Sugar and Leo, I had two singles. In a nice passive aggressive profit seeking strategy, Mr.
Patel had priced many of the snacks at $1.05 to insure that guests would insert
$2 and then not receive any change.
What a wily operator! Sugar
chose the Lance Cheese Crackers, whereas Leo went for the chocolate peanut
butter wafer cookies. Delightful.
The hotel appeared to have two sections, Smoking and Heavy
Smoking. The entire place smelled
like my Mom’s old VW Beetle in 1978.
An odd combination of Marlboro Red and hairspray. Our room had the cheer of a minimum
security prison. It would have
been an excellent place to film a budget porn movie, but one with a specific
kink like midgets or foot worship.
If you listened closely, you could hear crying in the adjoining
room. To combat that we turned on
the low def TV and to our joy found a Dolemite movie. We fell asleep to the sound of rain falling off the roof
onto a loose piece of metal outside our window.
There was a complimentary breakfast, but I suspected the
rations would have been a choice of Froot Loops from a plastic container and
powdered eggs served on white Styrofoam plates. I decided for the good of the band to let them sleep past
the dining hours as I scrolled though pictures on social media hoping to catch
a glimpse of something interesting.
I took a shower as a way to wake the kids up where I discovered the
temperature options of the water were limited to “icy slush” or “flesh ripping
hot”. The good news was I didn’t
have to choose between the two as the shower thoughtfully veered back and forth
at its own pace. The industrial
strength soap made me feel somewhat clean though I am concerned about the rash
that broke out. The towels smelled
slightly less sour than I expected.
All and all, an acceptable experience.
I would rate the Quality Inn as meeting but not exceeding
expectations. Obviously my
expectations were quite tempered, so make sure to allow other potential guests
know their experience will be defined by their own mindset going in. Once again, thank you for contacting me
for my feedback. I really feel
like our relationship is entering a new phase. You are not someone running away from intimacy, but running
towards the bright shining light.
I welcome our future together.
Regards,
G. Miller
No comments:
Post a Comment