Bed in a Box

The further adventures of sleeping elsewhere besides home, but not when on vacation, always brings some surprises. Last night was another "sleep in a hotel to review for my book" mini vacation. In the past, I have slept in some disappointing hotels, but for a new hotel, this one takes the cake. If first impressions matter, I named it Bed in a Box. Again, I will not divulge the name here, but the pictures will justify my impressions, I do believe. But let me start at the beginning. When I checked in, the front desk manager handed me an envelope while welcoming me to the hotel. Well, isn't that special! So I thought until reached the plain vanilla hallway to my room, devoid of decor other than a single plant in a cutout in the wall. Opening my welcome envelope, I found the usual tourist advertisements we give our own guests. Does anyone listen to me when I say "I LIVE HERE" or are they all on remote pilot and have a required need to maintain automation? There was one surprise in the envelope. A little sheet offering massages: Swedish, Honey, or Chocolate massage for 25 Euros an hour. For an additional 10 Euros, I could get a "Vacuum" massage or full body coiling. Now I had to wonder if this was in everyone's envelope or was I just special? If they had specified whether it was dark, bitter, or semi-sweet chocolate, I may have bit for the chocolate massage, but I am particular about my chocolate. The room is a box with a bed, period. I have felt firm mattresses before, but this was a slab. Pillows that refuse to change shape when you put your head of them, should be outlawed. It was fine for sitting up reading, but for sleeping, half of my body was at a forty-five degree angle. Two large windows made up the fourth wall. One opened six inches, while other looked like it was fitted as a door the balcony outside, but without a handle it was possible. Perhaps they were afraid that at these rates, guests would jump after realizing what a poor choice they had made, so why risk letting them out on the balcony. Then there was the sarcophagus shaped tub. Notice the similarities. Was I supposed to bath in it or wait for mummification to set in? I could not decide, but I would love to explore the mind of the decorator after he or she gets out of rehab. They must have been using something really potent when they came up with this idea. You cannot see the shower, but notice there is no door. Why bother?

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