(Photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/cheri_sundra/5588463721/”>Cheri Sundra: Guerrilla Historian</a> via <a href=”http://visualhunt.com”>Visualhunt</a> / <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/”>CC BY-ND</a>
As a kid, I couldnt wait for those rare trips where we got to stay in a hotel.
What did I find so exciting? The elevators. The beds made while we were out. The little soaps and shampoos, wrapped up for us like tiny presents. The lobby full of people to watch. The gift shop. The fact that there never was a 13th floor. Just about everything seemed special and different.
My, how things have changed. Unless the hotel is five star (and out of my price range), I usually find myself wishing that there were a better option.
The change of attitude partially has to do with my need for space. I have a tough time if I don’t have a place to be alone when I want to be alone, which is usually several times a day. It also is about how hotels have changed. There are so many more midrange options, which generally are clean and affordable, but which lack character. I didn’t realize how much the details impact my enjoyment of an experience until recently.
We settled into an airbnb home this evening after an unpleasant night in a basic hotel. I feel renewed and hopeful.
As I sit by myself in a quiet room and write.
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