Friday, December 07, 2007

the best things in life are really, really expensive.

i'm in dubai for the weekend and have a hotel room all to myself. as i was reserving the room for two nights at the hyatt regency a few days ago, i cringed and thought, god, this sucks. i wish i had someone to share the cost with.

oh HO. no more. over the course of the past few hours, i've learned that having a baller ass hotel room all to yourself is pretty much the best thing that could ever happen to you.

nice hotel rooms are truly magical. the way i feel about luxury hotel rooms is the same way that other people feel about trekking through thailand, or the miracle of birth.

grumpy after long hours of travel, i was in a cab on the way to the hotel thinking, 'bleh,' when a 20-story mirage of concrete tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, 'annie. i've been waiting for you. i have a decandent king sized bed, a view of the people playing cricket in the park across the way, a well-stocked mini-fridge, a samsung television from the late 90s, and endless boxes of turkish delight. come with me.'

after we rolled up the hotel drive past a few mercedes suvs, i casually tossed a handful of bills over my shoulder to take of the fare and waltzed into the lobby. the floor was sparkling, the exotic flowers waved hello, and a handsome man at the concierge smiled as i walked up. a touring subset of the vienna choir boys quickly assembled and sang a madrigal as i checked in.

the dense oak door of my room opened up to a marbled bathroom to my right. the perfect ratio of marble to glass, spherical shower, and well-architected sink and faucet were just barely enough to overcome the weirdness of having all the choir boys follow me up to the room and try to come in and sing while i flipped through the room service menu. after some gown ruffling and a lot of cussing, i was able to shove them out the door, turn around, straighten my shirt, and get back to enjoying My Luxury Hotel Room.

ooh! there's the samsung from the early 90s, i noted. just as the concrete fairy had foretold. moving from the tv, i noticed the beautiful blonde woodwork, light-blocking drapes, bad corporate hanging art, and - ah! the king sized bed. there it was: so expansive, so white, so soft. i hurled myself onto it and basked in its lushness.

you know, i thought, the only thing that could possibly make this better is if i were on this bed rolling around on top of a thick layer of $100 bills. so i poured a bunch of benjamins over the top sheet and did that.

at this point i fell into a deep slumber and dreamt that i was frolicking in a meadow with a giant safe that contained 1000 gold bars.

aw man! pretending you're rich the best.


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