I seem to be devoting a lot of time on this blog to bathrooms I am encountering on my book tour. Maybe it's because when I'm tired, it throws me to find something weird. So far I've had:
The large jetted tub in the middle of the room.A large photograph of an Afghan tribesman hanging in the bathroom--actually staring at me. I began to feel that I should be showering in a burka. Whoever thought that was comforting and relaxing bathing art?
The lovely, exquisite bathroom that had no hair dryer--a fact I only discovered when my driver was coming in fifteen minutes and I had soaking wet hair. I called down and was told "It's with the towels on the shelf."
"No, it's not," I said. "I have searched every inch."
"I'll send one up," she said.
I waited. And waited. My hair was rapidly drying plastered to my head.
Another phone call. "I need that dryer NOW!"
Finally it arrived.And this was one of those hotels who say, "If there's anything we can do for you--anything at all, just ask." Well, I asked for a hair dryer before my hair was totally ruined for the day.
Usually I bring along a small travel dryer for such emergencies, but I knew I'd be staying in first class hotels so why add the extra weight.
You see, I remember the time in NY, at a not so delux hotel,when the hairdryer went up in a blaze of sparks just as I was about to dry my hair..
I called housekeeping and told her the dryer wasn't working.
You must plug it in first, she said, patronizingly. And if that doesn't work, press the re-set button.
Would the reset button stop the sparks from coming out of it? I demanded.
I'll tell someone, she said.
And again I waited. And waited. I was due to meet with Viacom about a TV version of one of my books. Nobody came.
At last, in desperation I rushed down Seventh Avenue into the nearest electrictronics store. "Hairdryer. Now!" I gasped, hair dripping onto the counter, and thrust a credit card at them.
So that's why I usually carry a hairdryer.
Finally last night I have a sensible bathroom--with containers of everything I need on the wall rather than those little bottles i can't read with my glasses off.
And a big drawer for my cosmetics and no tribesmen glaring at me.
But instead the room had strings of Christmas lights over my windows and it took me ages to find out how to turn them off.
There's always something.
Loved reading this. Since I've never been on this kind of a tour, maybe I'm glad.
ReplyDeleteBut just think of all the wonderful fodder you now have for your books.... of course, so of them fall into the "too weird to be true" category, even though we all know they really happened. LOL.
ReplyDeleteIn the Ladies Room at Bay Wolf in Berkeley, you are treated to the sight of yourself in a full-length mirror directly opposite the toilet. Weird. When I was a little girl, our family would go on vacation. With five little girls in the family, we stopped at a lot of rest rooms. I used the Mobil Guide method for resorts to rate the bathrooms(four stars was "worth a special trip"). I rarely gave out that designation, but when I did, everyone else had to check it out. Thanks for the photo of the tub. I think the decorator was out in the sun too long.
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