More on hotels

More on hotels

Brenda didn’t want to name names in her post about hotels, but I’m not afraid to. However, they’re all blurring together so sometimes I have to go back and look things up.

Our first hotel was a Quality Inn in Louisville. Complimentary breakfast, pool, and the rooms were ok – except for the bathtubs, which had the enamel peeling off. We brought our own food along to break up the eating-out doldrums, so we unpacked in the large lobby outside the pool area. Brenda already told you that the one clerk on duty knew nothing about where anything was and couldn’t leave her counter, so we figured she wouldn’t be strolling by to tell us not to move the tables from the pool area to the lobby. Don’t worry, we cleaned up and moved everything back when we were done.

The hotel had a large pool, the biggest we’ve seen so far on this trip, but a crazy sign limiting the number of swimmers to five! What were they thinking? Which kid do I tell to stay on the deck? And what if other swimmers come…do they have to wait until we’re done? Ok, so we broke the rule, something I’ve found we did quite a bit on this trip. Brenda keeps telling me, “They’re more like suggestions, really.”

We’re splashing around, and a policeman walks up and starts looking at us. I’m thinking, Is he counting? Will he fine me? Arrest me? What’s the jail time for disobeying a pool sign? Turns out he was there on other matters; good thing, too, or our trip might have ended the first night.

We left Louisville in the snow, and headed for Charlottesville. I had booked the first two hotels, and this one was an EconoLodge, just across the street from another Quality Inn. Whatever you do, STAY AWAY from this hotel. Kenny was the clerk on duty. He had a lot of hair on his chest, and was missing some teeth, but was friendly enough. When I asked where the breakfast would be served, he tilted his head to the left and said, “Over there.” I looked over to where he indicated, but didn’t get it. I again said, Where? “There, on the counter.” The counter was a total of four feet long – maybe – and that included the toaster, bin for doughnuts, and juice dispenser. It made the Quality Inn in Louisville seem like the Taj Mahal. We did drink some juice in the morning and sample the doughnuts, but got out the breakfast bars as well.

Oh, and the Internet access was a treat. I found a wireless network called “econolodge”. Sounded good, so I connected, but couldn’t get out. So I wandered down the sidewalk (this was a motel) to visit Kenny, who told me that “No one uses that one anymore.” Silly me. He told me the right one to use (after cackling over my lack of computer expertise – sigh), and I discovered that it worked fine on the sidewalk in front of my door, but as soon as I entered the room the signal dropped to zero. I gazed longingly for a while at the Quality Inn across the way, then went to bed. They made the mistake of asking me to fill out a survey about our stay.

We stayed at the next place for six nights – a Howard Johnson’s. We had adjoining rooms, which made all the difference. The clerk here was a hoot as well. I called him Ahmal, because we were the night visitors. When I couldn’t connect to their Internet either, Ahmal suggested I uninstall/reinstall/remove/reconnect/etc. When I asked him if I could speak to their technical support, he said, “I’m the technical support.” He insisted that there’s never any trouble connecting, there’s no login screen, no password, “it just works.” I still couldn’t connect, and the next morning at breakfast we heard from six other residents who had the same trouble. Aha! So I again asked for tech support, and this time he gave me a number to call! Why didn’t he do that last night? Because he’s incompetent, that’s why. Tech support told me there was a problem with the network, and we worked through it together in about five minutes. So much for Ahmal the tech support guru.

Brenda told you he also promised a rollaway bed and a crib. Every time we walked through the lobby, he would see us and loudly (re)promise to get us these items. After a couple of days, we noticed an extra pillow and blanket in the room. Not exactly a rollaway, but it was a step in the right direction. He then told us there would be a charge for the other items, but since we never got them I guess it didn’t matter. He didn’t seem to notice that we didn’t receive them, and after a while dropped the subject.

The pool was nice, and had a hot tub next to it. Actually, the temperature of the pool was only slightly cooler than the hot tub. It was like taking a bath! The hot tub was marked as a whirlpool, but nothing happened when we turned the dial. We swam every night, though, which was excellent. The breakfast was all right, too – a grill for making waffles, three types of juices, etc.

One day when we returned to the rooms, our door wasn’t quite shut. If you just let them swing closed, this sometimes happens, and so we figured the maid must have left it that way. I wanted to inform the hotel manager so he could remind his staff to shut the doors, so I trotted down to talk to Ahmal. “Is the hotel manager in?” I asked. He looked around (to see if the coast was clear?) and said, “We are all managers here.” I instantly concluded that if he was as good a manager as he is a support technician, Howard Johnson’s is headed for bankruptcy. Keeping this insider’s tip to myself, I asked again to speak to the hotel manager. He said he was out at the moment (surprise!) but that he would put a note in the computer and the manager will see it “tonight or tomorrow, 100%!” It should come as no shock that we never heard from the hotel manager, although when we would walk through the lobby, Ahmal and the other staff would ask us how things were going – somewhat anxiously, I thought.

The Sleep In in Maryland was pretty good, but we had a scare first. The address we had for the hotel took us instead to one across the street, which looked like a horrible, night-of-the-living-dead version of the EconoLodge. We stopped and called the Sleep Inn, and they told us where to find the right place. It had a good breakfast and friendly staff – Timothy, the clerk, had two piercings in his lower lip, but was very polite and helpful. Everything was good at the Sleep Inn.

Our hotel in DC was a former Doubletree, which was undergoing extensive renovation on the way to becoming a Marriott Renaissance. The beds were excellent, and the only complaint I had was with Nicholas, the doorman. At the front door there were a handful of those carts which you can use to haul multiple bags. As we were checking out, I grabbed a cart and headed for the elevator. Nicholas stopped me and said he’d be glad to help. I had enough help already — and didn’t want to tip a guy for doing my job –, so I declined. He then said, “It’s the hotel policy that guests may not use the cart.” What? I had never heard of such a thing, and neither had the staff at the front desk. After the kids and I hauled our luggage down, I went to the desk to check out and told them I was disappointed with what the doorman told me. They said it was news to them, and they would tell the hotel manager. Good old hotel managers; they’re never around when you need them.

We haven’t made reservations for hotels on the way home, because we don’t know yet where we’ll stop. We’ll just drive until we’re ready to quit, then look for a place. Who knows what we’ll find? Kenny, he of the unbuttoned shirt and dental issues? Or Ahmal, who forever overcommits and underdelivers? Or maybe Timothy, eminently helpful? If it’s Nicholas, I’ll send the kids to cause a diversion and sneak a cart up the stairs.