Descriptive Writing Hotels

Descriptive Writing - Hotels


My vision of the perfect ending to a stressful day is easily described. I
walk through the front door, and I am greeted with a cheerful smile and a
helping hand with my belongings. Then, a complete stranger in a tuxedo,
who makes casual conversation with me, escorts me to my room. As he
opens the door for me, I enter a beautifully arranged room with everything in
complete order as if it has never been touched. Even the damp towel from
my morning shower has been replaced by a fresh one. Later in the evening,
I have the dinner of my choice delivered to me by another smiling man
dressed in a tuxedo.
No, I am not dreaming. This dream day can happen to anyone on any
day of the year without winning the lottery. This mythical day could be
yours for as little as $100 a night. Yes, this can be yours at any luxury hotel.
As a child, I thought hotels were mansions. Perhaps the most memorable
part of any of these skyscrapers was the revolving door. I mastered the
ultimate prank to pull on younger siblings. Once my kid brother would get
half way through the revolving door, I would stop walking. This doesn’t
sound very scary does it? However, if you are four years old and a sissy, it
is terrifying. My brother would be stuck between the outside and the inside
and was too weak to escape. I am sure that this is a classic prank in all
families and one that usually results in a swat on the behind. I am equally
sure that the swat is well worth it.
After surviving the revolving door, I can see plants on my left and right.
In the center of the lobby is a small water fountain filled with crystal clear
water and old pennies scattered across its aqua bottom. Up ahead are more
plants, the reservation desk, and three clerks dressed in burgundy vests and
white undershirts nearly hidden by their computers. Behind the clerks is a
solid white wall with four identical clocks, each showing the time for a
different time zone.
Once I am checked in, a nicely dressed young man pushing a solid brass
cart with a red carpeted base comes over and loads all of my luggage and
sometimes even my youngest sibling onto the cart. As two large metal doors
open, my whole family steps into a closet-sized elevator. Surrounded by
mirrors, my family encounters one of the biggest conflicts of the day. Who
will push the floor destination button? This usually results in at least five
circular buttons being lit up and my father pushing the emergency stop
button. This time, everyone gets a swat on the behind, including the bell
boy.
The first thing I notice when I walk in the hotel room is the near-freezing
draft flowing throughout the room. The bathroom, which resembles the kind
seen in hospitals, is usually on the left. It has a white tiled floor, white
towels, white walls, and white shower curtain. A large mirror hangs at eye
level and below it is the bogus marble sink. On the vanity lies a
complimentary basket of toiletries, which includes a bar of facial soap, a bar
of deodorant soap, a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner and, if you
are lucky, a shower cap that no guest ever uses. I don’t have any actual
statistics to back this up, but I believe that these are the items most likely to
be stolen nationwide.
After touring the bathroom, I and my brothers have done our touring and
have made our way to the trampoline/beds. We receive another swat on the
behind that is well worth it. Then we settle in, fluff our pillows, kick back
and enjoy the free cable. From this point on, a major portion of the vacation
week is spent loafing and indulging ourselves with food and drink from the
tiny, never-empty refrigerator that keeps magically refilling itself.
Checking out is like having a root canal. No one really wants to do it, but
it has to be done. There will be no more loafing around all day, no more
room service and no more free beverages. What? They weren’t free? Why
wasn’t I told about this? I thought that guy on the Kenmore commercial
magically refilled those little refrigerators for free. How much? Now
everyone gets another swat on the behind.
In essence, staying in a nice hotel is like living in the White House,
without the sex scandals and perjury. Living in a hotel is the dream life.
Where else can you eat, drink, sleep, loaf, and enjoy free cable for about a
hundred bucks cash or a charge to a major credit card?
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