When I tell people I am a pilot and I travel for a living, they often say something like, “Ooooh and you get to stay in hotels? How fun! I love hotels.” I think people say that because for most people, when they stay in a hotel, it is fun. When they stay in a hotel they are usually on vacation. It’s a once or twice a year type event for them and they associate hotels with a respite from normal life. They have someone to make their bed, bring them food, and often times, there is even a swimming pool that they can lounge by. I get it. That vision of a hotel, somewhere tropical, does sound nice. But when you sleep in a hotel bed more often than you sleep in your own bed you begin to think of a hotel room not as fun, but as a prison cell.
Okay. I exaggerate. I think my thoughts are being influenced because I have been in a training program for the last three in a half-weeks. I have been looking at the same hotel walls for what seems like a long time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice hotel. My company is contractually required to put fellow pilots like me up in places that meet a high standard. I have no complaints. It would be a great room, for a night. But for 30 nights, any hotel gets old. I mean listen to the lyrics of “Hotel California,” the place sounds nice enough in the beginning but by the end, you hate The Eagles. That is unless you become a hotel pro, like me. Okay, it still gets old, but it’s better.
You see, one reason a hotel gets old, is because no matter how great a hotel is, how many amenities it offers, how much stuff it has; it doesn’t have your stuff. Which in the past has been a problem. Sure hotel food can be fun, but 30 days of hotel food gets really old. Yes, you can walk and find other food, but it is still restaurant food. It’s not the comfort of home. So, what do I do when I get to a hotel room? I request a microwave and an empty mini-fridge. Then, I go grocery shopping, like I am moving into the place. I buy the oatmeal I eat every morning at home to make in my room. I buy fresh produce. I buy an endless supply of my own sparkling water and it costs $3 for an 8 pack instead of $3 for a half can. Then I cook in the room. Sure, it’s not the five-star restaurant that’s downstairs, but I have control. I can steam broccoli, I can microwave popcorn, I can… Actually that’s about all I can cook with a microwave. I am pretty sure that there have been complaints issued by other hotel guests that the whole place smells like broccoli and popcorn from all the broccoli and popcorn I have been cooking. I don’t care. They are day-trippers and I am a lifer in this place.
You might be saying, “Wait? How are you microwaving oatmeal and broccoli? Yes, you have a microwave, but what are you cooking it in?” Exactly. What indeed! That’s where the real game changer of this long-stay shines. In the past, I have tried to make do with paper plates, paper bowls, and plastic utensils. This time, I had the foresight to pack a large, covered glass bowl and my own steel utensils. I have dishwashing liquid and scrub brush and I do my dishes every day, prison-style, in the bathroom sink. Its made all the difference. I eat what I want, when I want, and the way I want it. Thankfully, I really like eating sandwiches, broccoli, and popcorn.
Yes, when the maid comes to my room, she might look twice at the shelf with peanut butter, protein powder, hot sauce, seasoning salt, and a jar of pickles. She might even report to her superiors, “Hey, I think the guy in room so and so has moved in permanently.” And she’d be right. If she was allowed to come in to my room. You see part of making a hotel room your own, is taking ownership. Would you let a stranger in to your home to clean your stuff? No. Okay, some people do. I guess they have what is called a “maid” on the outside too. Not me though. I make my own bed. I empty my own trash. I clean my own bathroom. Okay, I don’t do that. Actually, now that I write that, I am thinking the bathroom could use a clean. I spilled some coffee grounds and hot sauce in there. I could also use some new towels. Note to self: flip around that “do not disturb” sign for tomorrow.
The point is, I am in this for the long-haul. I even brought my own entertainment. I have a guitar in the room. I have a library of books. I even brought magazine and newspapers articles from home that I have been intending to read for months. I will probably end up packing them back up, taking them home, and still be intending to read them in the future. That doesn’t matter, I have them. I have everything I need right here. Thankfully, my sentence is up next weekend. But, if the company sentenced me to two more months in a hotel, I could do it standing on my head. Well, I might need a conjugal visit from my wife. Note to self: call the front desk and ask them if conjugal visits are allowed. Side note: If you find yourself in the downtown Denver Sheraton, look for “Marc was here,” carved in the ceiling beam of your room and I am sorry about the popcorn and broccoli smell.
