Perhaps I'm a snob, perhaps I'm being picky, but, I sent this message to the hotel general manager:
Let me begin by saying that I have found the staff at the Holiday Inn City Center Peoria to be helpful and professional beyond reproach. They are all well-mannered and courteous. I appreciate the many complimentary services, including wireless internet and parking.
Unfortunately, for the $118.00 a night plus 11.5% tax I am spending during my stay here, the accommodations are shocking. Shocking is a strong term, and I wouldn't use it if I was not, indeed, shocked and appalled by the state of my room. The bathroom seems to have suffered through some sort of serious event. Joint tape on the ceiling in the shower is peeling and hanging loose. The shower head fixture has pulled away from the wall, the seal formed by the caulk broken. Baseboard trim behind the toilet seems to have been hastily applied in hopes of masking some sort of damage. When I sit on the toilet, it shifts precariously. It took twenty-five minutes for the water in the shower to become luke-warm enough to bathe in tolerably, and then suddenly became scalding hot as I was applying my shampoo.
Beyond the bathroom, one of the table legs on the desk is broken, enough so that I wouldn't want to put any weight on it. The weather seal around the window in the room is barely intact, and bleeds the cold winter air from outside.
When I booked my stay, I was not expecting accommodations of opulence and luxury. I was, however, expecting a well maintained room in which I could comfortably perform my daily ablutions. The price of this stay is by no means a bargain. It is a fee that demands a certain standard which has not been met. It is a shame that the dedicated and helpful staff here, which does indeed include you, will never, ever receive my business again.
Yours with extreme disappointment and dissatisfaction, -Daniel Morris Room 303
My immediate thought was that it must be one of those new Mr. Popeil Executive Enemas, for when you just don't have the time to leave your cubicle. I was completely wrong. But do you know what it is? I'd like to know your thoughts.
There's a restaurant in my building called Ponte Fresco. Before I started this wacky vegetarian thing (which...my God, I haven't pooped like this since I was an infant...), I used to go to Ponte Fresco every Friday morning and buy a large coffee and a ham egg and cheese croissant. It was the best breakfast sandwich available within a fifteen minute walk, and that's saying a lot.
This morning, I walked into Ponte Fresco, because it was time to eat some meat. I'm not doing this vegetarian thing for moral reasons, just health. And I've been eating so healthy lately, filling my belly with okra and tofu and celery and pinto beans, that I could scarf down an entire flash-fried buffalo and, as long as I ate a Fiber One bar afterward, suffer no ill effects. I craved that ham egg and cheese croissant, jonesed for it. First time in over a month.
Of course, wouldn't you know it, they don't make it anymore. Which not only sucks but also makes me feel guilty. With my switch to oatmeal and fruit plates, was I the only one supporting the Croissant program at Ponte Fresco? Did I contribute to the decline and fall of an institution near and dear to my heart (indeed, clogging my heart from the inside)? Yes, yes I did, and now it's gone forever.
At this point, did I just buy a bowl of oatmeal and cave in to the healthy lifestyle? No. No I did not. But I should have. Instead, I walked down to Dunkin' Donuts, and ordered an extra large coffee and a bacon, egg, and cheese Waffle Sandwich. With the order came the discovery that when frequenting this particular establishment, I can fairly assume that I'd be wise to stick with the eponymous Donuts.
Take two Eggo waffles, shrink them by 40%, and betwixt them, put some scrambled egg that's been in the freezer, and a few strips of vulcanized rubber in the shape and color of bacon and cheese. Dip the whole thing in luke warm water, microwave for forty five seconds. Wrap it in paper and stand around for fifteen minutes, to simulate the completely incomprehensible wait at the actual shop. That would be a fair facsimile of the Waffle Sandwich experience.
Furthermore, I'm assuming since everyone who goes into Dunkin' orders their coffee with cream and sugar, they brew it extra weak so as not to offend. I taste nothing that even remotely resembles coffee. I taste hot water. Perhaps a hint of chickory. But coffee? No sir.
Also, I need someone to explain to me the deal with coffee lids at Dunkin'. What's with the completely removeable tab on the top? What purpose does it serve? It doesn't anger me...just completely confounds me. WHY DOES THIS THING COME OFF? Is it for ninjas who need an emergency shuriken? What's the deal?
Next time I feel like breaking the diet, I will remember this. And, no, I won't order oatmeal instead. I'll do the sensible thing, walk down to McDonald's, and get a McGriddle.
A Video, which if you're a nerd like me, you'll enjoy:
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