Being on the road again, I had hoped to bring you some Americana sightseeing tales and pics. However, inclement weather interceded, so I will bring you another travel tip. I know what you’re thinking, “Please, not another post about hotel soap.”
“But … but … hotel soap is an integral part of my business travel,” I protest. How about a Trumpy soap post? I know you want it. Let’s go.
When presented with 2 soap choices, always use the smaller one and take the larger soap home.
Now, I know Trump supporters may struggle with how to determine which is larger and which is smaller. I’ll try and make it relatable for them.
I had never stayed at a Microtel hotel before. I had always been leery of the ‘micro’ part. Was it a very small hotel, or was it a hotel that catered to very small people? I wasn’t sure, but I booked a night at a Microtel in Springfield, IL due to the very small nightly cost.
I was ready for anything, even this.
It looked nicely normal as I walked into the lobby to check in. The indoor pool is always of interest to me, and it was right off the lobby, so I took a peek at the pool. Uh-oh. This sign poolside explained a lot.
Many of you will be traveling over this Thanksgiving weekend.
Meanwhile, I’ll be stuffing my pie hole with, well, pie I guess since I don’t eat turkey.
But I did travel last week, and while I sent you a scintillating story about my hotel room’s light switch, I did not blather in this blog about my bathtub in my other hotel room. It was something special, and something I did not expect from a Super 8. Take a look …
I’m on the road again and was surprised when I tried to turn on the light over the sink in my hotel room.
That was Marty Feldman as Igor in the fabulous movie Young Frankenstein. Full disclosure here. After hours of driving, I did not look as good as Marty Feldman did in that movie.
I really looked more like this …
I’m on the road again for business this week, but decided to stop and see my middle daughter at college along the way. It was a good place to stay for the night as it is about halfway to my business destination, and I found a hotel in town that would cost me all of $45, including tax. More importantly, this hotel did not have a number as part of its name. But how could it be a numberless hotel and be so cheap? I pulled into the parking lot with a bit of trepidation, but it was only one night. I was ready for the worst.
I entered the lobby and sniffed. No smell like I would expect from a $45 hotel. It looked neat and clean. I asked the desk clerk why it was so cheap, er economically-priced I quickly corrected before he could assign me to the murder room with a chalk outline on the floor. He had no idea. “Corporate,” he explained without actually explaining anything.
I continued to sniff like Donald Trump at a press conference as I headed down the hallway to my room. Nothing. I opened the room. Sniff, sniff. Nothing. It was a nice, clean, odor-free room. I was tired and fell asleep faster than if I had been at an actuarial seminar.
I had a good night’s sleep and woke up feeling good. I opened the drapes to see how the morning looked. It looked something like this …
I knew it was going to be a rough business trip this week when I awoke on Tuesday morning, threw back the drapes on my hotel room window, and saw this …
I had been dreading my business trip to Orlando. My dread was not unfounded as it got off to an inauspicious start.
I can’t afford to fly first class, and nothing about me would ever be considered first class. But since I have very long legs, I prefer extra legroom on my flights, so I paid a bit extra to guarantee a seat in the emergency exit row. As I flopped down into my seat, I couldn’t help but notice that it was a tad tight around my tush.
I’m about the only person who considers me fat. I’m 6’1” tall and about 190 lbs. If I convert that to metric, I think that’s 18.25 hands high with a weight of 13.5 stones. Anyway, I’d like to be 6’ 2” tall and 180 lbs. I’ve failed miserably recently at both gaining height and reducing weight. A little less weight would have been nice in that airline seat. Kim Kardashian may have struggled to get all her implants situated in the seat. I am sure there would have been offers of assistance. The bottom (pun intended) line is that the seat was tight for me.
This is the part of the blog post where I walk the line between being politically correct and a jerk. Oh, you thought that was the previous paragraph? Read on if you dare. You have been warned.