Hotel Hell

Maybe hell is the wrong word. Don’t think Gordon Ramsay and the television debacle of filth and bugs and nasty food he uncovers at what would otherwise be fabulous destinations. Hotels like that would give me nightmares. I am very fortunate to have a husband who works for the hospitality industry that has landed us in some wonderful hotels. 

We arrived at our hotel last night – the brand spanking new Hilton Garden Inn in Uniontown, PA last night for a weekend visit with my in-laws. This place is amazing. We got drinks at the bar and were able to sit with our Kindles and read by the outdoor fire pit last night after our 10 pm arrival. There are a lot of amazing spaces here to put your feet up and unwind, visit with friends, mix it up with strangers both indoors and outdoors. Our room is lovely. The perfect size – not too big or small. There was a Keurig this morning for that first cup of coffee. This lovely little oasis will be the place we stay in the future when our crazy event schedule allows. This is not the hell to which I am referring.

The hotel hell for me, a self-proclaimed morning person is the misery of traipsing around a darkened hotel room of a morning so my Sasquatch, who loves to sleep in can catch a few more winks. We learned this on our honeymoon when after day three of trying to find a way to occupy myself for hours after my 6 am natural wake-up time, I cracked. I said promptly as he rose after 10 am, “Tomorrow we are getting up and going out for breakfast, early.” I ended the directive with a flustered foot stomp. Thankfully my ranting and rambling about how unfair it was to do everything at his pace did little to provoke him and the next morning he drug himself out of bed and took me to breakfast.

This is marriage 101. We give and we take and we bend to take care of each other. I don’t love having to creep around in the dark, but I do love having a husband who is healthy and happy. I am sure he doesn’t love it when I fall asleep mid-sentence late at night. He doesn’t need to sleep in nearly as long as he used to now that there is 70 pounds less of him and I try to stay awake a little later sometimes to enjoy his company, like I did last night. We find our way around the obstacles that would seek to separate us, and we meet in the middle.

I still wish someone would design some options for couples like us aside from a full-blown suite or extended stay venue that allowed a place for me to sit and throw open the curtains to take in the morning sun without disturbing the rest of my partner. Oh, wait. Maybe someone has designed such a place. I think it’s called home.