Luxury

I love hotels. I especially like them when I bid on them blindly through Priceline and secure a room at one-third to one-fourth of the lowest rate available on the website. I like scoping out the location and finding out how convenient it is. Such was the case with the Hotel Intercontinental, Boston. The hotel itself was gorgeous, featuring a large, yet warm lobby and friendly clerks working at the check-in desk. The room was spacious and beautiful, decorated modernly in dark wood and simple furniture. The bathroom was the biggest and most luxurious that I have seen. It featured a glassed in shower with two shower heads--the stationary one as well as one that was flexible and moved. The separate tub was deep, and also featured a shower head for washing off. The only thing that prevented it from being a completely pampering experience were the toiletries. It did feature a wonderful-smelling, clean-feeling soap, shampoo and conditioner (not that conditioning shampoo that some chains try to get away with) and a nice shower gel. However, I would have loved to see some of those special extras such as lotion or mouthwash.

When we returned to our room after a busy and fun day, Kyle was ready for bed with no coaxing. Amanda read a little and then turned off her light at our urging. Terry followed suit. I read a bit, and he was snoring softly a few minutes after he turned out his light, but I wasn't tired. I finally closed my novel, and slept, but not soundly. I had to use the restroom and adjust the thermostat two or three times. I woke up whenever one of the children cried out in the garbled speech of sleep. Quite a few emergency vehicles made a middle-of-the-night driveby, awaking me another time. By 6:15, in spite of the wonderful hotel black-out curtains, I knew I was awake for the day. I did stay in bed and doze a bit for another hour, but then I got up and took my pillow and novel into the bathroom, and put the bathtub to a dry use as a lounger. Another hour later and I was dressed and ready to go, yet no one in my family had stirred.


So I escaped.

The freedom of being out, alone, by myself felt a little illicit and thrilling. I walked down the street by the water, enjoying the cool air and bright sunshine. I got a cup of coffee and sat outside, alone, by myself, to sit, sip and write. In my hasty retreat, I had not brought my book or even my notebook, but I put the back of the hotel-issue map of downtown and a receipt or two to good use. Less than an hour later, I decided that everyone should be awake (and if they weren't, they should be), so I got another coffee for Terry and headed back to the hotel to enjoy the day with my family.