Deal or no deal?

What a Deal. I found this really affordable hotel in one of America’s most exclusive neighborhoods; they make television shows about this area. I’m excited, I mean I can’t wait to see what amenities and palatial service await me, all for the low price of $130/night. Admissions people live for wonderful deals like this, low price hotels in really nice places with really comfortable beds and high speed internet; high speed is key, especially if it’s “free”.

I pulled up to the hotel on such and such lane after I passed it twice; there was no address posted on the outside. I made a sharp right turn into the hotel garage and to my immediate right was the hotel lobby. Although the sign on the make-shift desk said “be back in five minutes”, I waited a good 15 before my young hostess returned to check me in. Her set-up was contained in two parking spaces. There were walls erected around her to make it look like an office. The silk flowers on the counter and crooked picture on the wall gave the space ambiance. Parking space 4, the lobby, had a chair, a floor flower pot, and a half-wall painted yellow. After a few minutes of her typing stuff into the computer and me signing some papers I was given my room key.

With my key in hand I head to the other side of the garage to find the elevators. As I leave parking space 4, the lobby, I hand my car keys to the valet. The valet parks my car two spaces down from the lobby in parking space 6. I walk out of the dark garage into the smack dab middle of a construction zone. There is yellow tape roping of certain areas, drywall dust, hanging plastic, rags, planks of plywood, and a sign; “Sorry for our appearance we are undergoing serious renovations.” The sign really brought clarification in a way only the obvious can do.

A few coughs later I found the elevator corridor. After walking past the first set of doors, behind a partially constructed wall I saw the elevator buttons. I put down my bags, stuck my arm in the hole in the wall, literally, and pressed the “up” elevator button. Instantly the doors opened, I got in, and pressed five. In less than a minute the elevator doors opened again.

All I see is shiny black. I turn left and walk down the hallway dragging my bags behind me looking for 509. One side of the hallway the numbers are going up, on the other side they are going down. I don’t see 509, so I head in the other direction. Just a few steps past the elevator on the left is 509. The numbers on the doors are these little clear sleek plexiglass numbers with a blue-white light illuminating them against the shiny black. I’ve finally made it to my room; the lap of under-construction-luxury for the next two days.

There are two chairs; one has no back, the other no arms. The desk is a sleek glass and wood modern minimalist piece. The bed is about two and half inches off the ground, but firm to the touch, which I like. The headboard is this floor to ceiling geometrical leather thingy; almost like a poorly done Tetris wall. Where there is no leather, there is shiny black. There are shiny black blocks attached to the ceiling too. I later find out they are reflective. On both sides of the bed are these black and silver (shiny) globe lights hanging from the ceiling. They are controlled by the switch on the other side of the room near the entrance. Just left of the bed is my balcony. I love balconies. Without the weight of my bags, I easily move between the desk and the bed to other side of the room to check out my view. I pull back the silver polyester (shiny) curtains and unlock the balcony doors. I can’t see much through the tinted glass, plus it’s dark outside. I open the doors and walk out and am instantly greeted by scaffolding. Beyond the point of agitation, I laugh. The room needs to air out so I leave the balcony doors open. As I sit at the wood and glass desk in the backless black and sliver (shiny) chair and unpack my computer, I realize that this experience is a lot like the college selection process. I based my decision to stay here solely on prestige and affordability. For the next two days, I’ll have to live with my mistake.