I stayed at a fancy hotel in Salt Lake City. I’ve only stayed at such a fancy hotel once before. My dad was stationed in Saudi Arabia and we went to visit him and my mom at Christmastime. We stayed in a place with a harpist in the lobby and a crew of workers that raked away our footprints in the sand. (Military discount.)
I was told I was staying at the Little America Hotel initially. It sounded kind of side-of-the-highway, but it turned out to be like this:
I walked up to the desk to check in feeling entirely underdressed and rumpled. They didn’t have a reservation. Nothing. I tried a bunch of different names. Nope. I sat down in the fancy lobby and waited for someone from New Balance to call and rescue me before they kicked me out. It turned out I didn’t have a reservation at the Little America because I was in the Grand America next door.
Here’s the bathroom.
I walked around on the marble in my bare feet as much as possible. I also came away with a ziploc bag full of shampoos and sundries. I was happy to leave though, because I couldn’t stop sneezing and blowing nose the entire time I was there. I’m sure the housecleaning staff must think I stuffed the full box of tissues in my bag along with the lotions, but I used them all up. Everything cleared up as soon as I got outside the next morning. Too clean? Too fancy? I made the mistake of telling one of the New Balance folks and she said they’d keep that in mind the next time. Hello Motel 6.
Running log: Rest day