KNOW WORRIES #21 - "Hotel, motel, Holiday Inn"

The sublime frustration of staying away from home

This past weekend, my parents met my husband’s parents for the very first time. And shockingly enough, that isn’t what this column is about at all, because it actually went pretty great. Couldn’t have gone better, really. Everybody got along and much fun and good food was had, and it was like a tight 180-minute get-together, so really I have nothing to complain about. And sure, that’s great and everything, but it doesn’t do a whole lot for me content-wise, you know? So pretty lame on everybody’s part. Honestly, I expected better.

We did, however, stay at a hotel near my parent’s house that night, and that did give me something to complain about. So that got me thinking…

I love hotels. And also, I hate hotels. They are both the best and the worst of what you can expect when you’re staying away from home, and that kinda says it all. Like yes, it’s great to not have to clean up after yourself every now and then. But that also means you don’t get to clean up before yourself either, which is a very particular kind of stress. Who was in this room before me? To what degree did they disrespect it? Who cleaned it, and did they really clean it? Or did they just kinda put all the dishes in the sink? There are levels to this, you know.

There are three (3) types of hotels, and they are: is clean, looks clean, and is not clean, and I’ve stayed at all of them. Now, the is clean hotels are usually pretty great, and it’s usually indicative of a fairly rad overall experience. I’ve been lucky enough to stay at a few of those in my time, and every time I do, I don’t wanna leave. It’s like…it’s like library syndrome (which is a thing I just made up). Like that peace of being when you’re in a space that’s just nicely buttoned up and well-cared for and everybody there is helpful and knows what they’re doing and they have great air conditioning and free Wi-Fi. You know, library syndrome. Which is a thing I just made up.

I mean, some people are just good at what they do. And those people make life worth living. Like, did you know if you stay at a Hilton Doubletree, they welcome you with a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie from the special cookie warming drawer behind the check-in counter? It’s true! They have a cookie warming drawer. You can even just…walk down and ask for another cookie whenever you want and they’ll totally give it to you, which is the best hotel policy I’ve ever heard of in my life. But as much as I love cookies, I do have my principles. And I won’t be bought. And if some giant corporate conglomerate thinks they can purchase my loyalty with a cookie they are five huge stars. Literally no notes. Go check out hiltondoubletree.com and use code JED for 10% off your next stay.

Just kidding. Please do not do that.

I’m just saying, hotels can be nice places to stay. The black-out curtains are usually pretty on point, you have to admit. Like, yes, the little sliver of sunlight they don’t block is probably gonna hit you right in the eye in the morning, but them’s the breaks. The air conditioning is also usually pretty spectacular, which as a cocoon sleeper, I appreciate to no end. And I also appreciate the fact that air conditioning micro-transactions haven’t become a thing yet, because I’m definitely gonna get my money’s worth. In my humble opinion, air conditioning at a hotel is to be treated like garlic in any recipe that calls for garlic. Or maybe like breadsticks at an Olive Garden. Like, there is no such thing as too much, and I’m going to potentially bankrupt this business with how much of it I’m willing to consume.

And that goes for breakfast, too. I never skip breakfast at a hotel, even if it’s a just sad little shell of a continental snack. In fact, those are low-key my favorite kind of hotel breakfasts. They just satisfy the hunter-gatherer in me. Like there’s probably a whole meal in there somewhere, but you’re gonna have to put some work in to find it. I’m sure it’s there, you just have to get past the basket of mini-muffins and the plate of the most tasteless cantaloupe you’ve ever had in your life first. Do they even make good cantaloupe anymore? I feel like I had one (1) delicious cantaloupe as a kid and have spent several thousand dollars chasing that high ever since.

The funny part is I usually don’t eat breakfast unless I have a really good reason. And “I’ve already paid for it” is a really good reason (see also: bread sticks). It’s the same reason I always use all the towels in the bathroom, even if I don’t need to. Just kidding, that would be super weird. Almost as weird as actually putting your clothes in a hotel dresser drawer. Like, really? Some strange drawer you’ve never met before? No thank you, I will continue to keep my clothes on the desk and the chair and the other chair and the mini fridge and the other chair where they belong. Like an adult.

And that’s part of the hotel experience, isn’t it? Putting stuff wherever you want? One could argue, in fact, that it’s the defining part. Playing by different rules. Doing things you wouldn’t normally do. I’m sure there’s a few people in the hospitality industry reading this right now that have some stories that would make Stephen King blush. And I have to admit, I’m no different. I do make a bit of a mess when I’m at a hotel. But I’m also incredibly self-conscious, and I can’t bear the very thought of an employee who’s never seen my face and doesn’t know my name thinking anything negative about me, so I also clean that mess up before I leave. Which should also be part of every library syndrome experience. Especially in actual libraries. Please don’t be a dick to your library workers.

But unfortunately, not all hotels give you those sweet, sweet library feels. In fact, some of them feel like whatever the opposite of a library is. Like a Buffalo Wild Wings on a Sunday, or a screening of The Minecraft Movie, or a popular male-empowerment podcast that keeps showing up on your YouTube algorithm no matter how hard you try to rid yourself of it. And that is to say, some of them are annoying and kinda stressful and awful, and as soon as I get there I can’t wait to leave. And sure, that’s how I feel about most places that don’t have my couch and my dog inside, but that’s neither here nor there.

For instance, I once stayed at Circus Circus in Las Vegas, which unbeknownst to me at the time, was the “family oriented” hotel on the strip. And that’s a very polite way of saying there were screaming children everywhere. Everywhere. It was like staying in a 160-room ball pit at a Chuck E Cheese. Like everything was sticky for no reason, all of us got sick afterwards, and the pizza was terrible and there were rats. And as the day went on, all of the childrens’ parents only got more heat exhausted and tipsier, so by the end of the first night, it was like Lord of the Flies in that place. Tribes of children running amok. Kids hunting other kids. It was the scariest night I’ve ever had in Las Vegas, and that’s saying something, because I once sat at the same blackjack table as Kellyanne Conway. Which was obviously traumatic on a number of levels.

The only thing that could’ve made it worse was if somebody took that hotel and put it out in the middle of the water where nobody could hear me scream. And that pretty much sums up my thoughts on cruises, which are the most annoying of all the hotels. Now, I haven’t exactly been on a lot of cruises, but I’ve been on enough to know I don’t like them. They’re basically just an exercise in what you’re willing to settle for as long as it happens on the ocean and (like I’ve been saying) you’ve already paid for it. Oh, and also there’s no escape. Oh, and also people will try and get to know you. Oh, and also I hope you like Jimmy Buffet, because you’re gonna be hearing a lot of it.

Sorry, cruisers, but it’s just not my thing. The other day, somebody said to me, “Well that’s just because you’ve never been on a good cruise.” And then I said, “Yes, that’s exactly my point,” and then we just stared at each other for a while. So, that was fun.

But even the most lackluster cruise pales in comparison to the worst place I’ve ever stayed, which was a Daze Inn on Hollywood Blvd. A Days Inn, you say? No no. A Daze Inn. Which is a knock off of a Days Inn, which in and of itself, is not something anyone should ever try to copy. But it was cheap, and I was broke, and boy, do I have a lot of stories that start that way. And you remember what I said earlier about liking to get my money’s worth? Well, turns out that’s not always a good thing, because I definitely got exactly what I paid for.

What’s worse that seeing bullet-proof glass in front of the check-in window at your hotel? Bullet-proof glass that’s actually taken a bullet before. And yes, that’s pretty terrifying, but at least they know it works. Also, roaches. Roaches are worse. And I know this because there were three of them waiting in my room. And not just any roaches, we’re talking Hollywood roaches, which were somewhere between a small armadillo and a large Volkswagen in size, and holy shit they would not shut up. My screenplay this and my screenplay that. No, I get it, it’s a tough industry. But as soon as you get that SAG card, you’re off to the races. Just gotta get that first break, right?

Now, in my defense, I did try and complain about the roaches. But by the time I got back to the check-in window, the clerk was passed out face-down on his keyboard, and it didn’t exactly look like he was doing a whole lot of breathing. So, I did the responsible thing and called the paramedics, and when they got there, one of them just walked up to the window and yelled “Jimmy!” And Jimmy did not wake up, but this is just to say that being on a first name basis with the paramedics is probably the signist sign you can find that you need to take a hard look at your life choices.

Anyway, they had no choice but to tear the door off its hinges, give Jimmy a little hit of Narcan, and whisk him away to what I can only assume is a place I would much rather spend the night. So, I was left to my own devices with my three new roommates. And do you know they didn’t even offer to split the cost? Fucking typical, really. But they actually turned out to be pretty cool, and I still keep in touch with two of them on Facebook. One is actually the head of A24 now, and honestly, good for him.

But that was a rare case study, and honestly, the things that usually bug me about staying in a hotel are pretty minor. But that doesn’t mean I have to like them. Oh, checkout is at 3:30 in the morning? Aces. And breakfast is at 3:00? Like, what am I supposed to do with that information? I have never in my life gotten up that early to make my own waffles, and I don’t plan on starting now. And what is the point of the killer air conditioning and the blackout shades if you won’t let my people sleep?

See, hotels don’t actually want you to sleep. That’s just big hotel propaganda. If they did want you to sleep, they wouldn’t dress everybody’s bed with the same twelve pillows stuffed with nothing. They’re like Schoedinger’s pillows. They both exist and don’t exist at the same time. Like, it doesn’t matter how many of them I stack on top of each other or how I arrange them, they will never be enough to support my little quail brain and its housing comfortably. Which is a shame, because it’s very tired after a long day of trying to figure out how to work the shower controls.

And therein lies the rub. A stay away from home is brilliant for the very same reason it’s infuriating—everything is different. And you never know just how different until you stay there, and by that point it’s too late to stay anywhere else, and that’s why we all have a horror story or two or eight. I’m not the world’s most seasoned traveler, but I do have one good piece of advice, and that advice is always try to stay somewhere that offers free cookies, Because then no matter what happens…at least you have a cookie. And that’s way better than not having a cookie.