We’ll leave the lights on for you

My parents took me to a new hotel this week. I would like to express my dissatisfaction with my stay.

You know that you’re not having a good time when you actually learn to say a new word just to describe how bad a time you’re having. This hotel taught me to say “No” clearly and emphatically. That didn’t do me a whole lot of good, though, since every objection I raised was ignored by the hotel staff.

I don’t think my standards are extravagantly high. I’m not expecting the Waldorf Astoria. But I’ve had far nicer stays at Fairfield Inns than at this “Children’s Hospital.” I really hope this one isn’t representative of the chain.

Since I wasn’t allowed to leave my bed, let alone leave the room or the floor, I’m not sure the location mattered much. I understand that there were numerous tourist attractions nearby. That must be nice for someone.

I should describe the room, I suppose, since that’s basically all I saw. One bed plopped in the middle of the room, one chair, and one sort of mattress on a ledge by the window. I took the bed. There were several small tables, almost no storage space for luggage, and a whole lot of buttons that I wasn’t allowed to push. Hard-surface flooring replaced the usual hotel carpet.

Room service was a bright spot, once they finally decided I could eat. The special goldfish-shaped crackers that the hotel chef made just for me were amazing, and were delivered in a neat crinkly bag. The saline drip was a new experience, and not something you can get just anywhere.

The television was tiny. I mostly watched YouTube videos on an ipod instead. Thank God for the in-room wifi.

There was no pool.

The two best words to describe the hotel staff: “attentive” and “intrusive.” Respect for my personal space was a little lacking, though I’m used to that since I’m still in diapers. But if they don’t even let the guests sleep, they should expect some grumpiness. Ok, a lot of grumpiness. Because it turns out that wearing a loud nebulizer mask and a hyperactive blood pressure cuff for the entire night is not as sleep-inducing as a nice pacifier. Or bedside singing. Or construction equipment.

The hotel said we had a private room. As if. Every hotel room we’ve ever had has been more private than this one.

Bottom line: I don’t plan to return. And as I understand it, nobody really wants to. Two stars, up from one because of the nurse, Blake, who juggled for me. That was cool.