Hello. Over here…no right here…here I am!
I know you didn’t recognize me in these Gucci sunglasses, especially since it’s nighttime and all, but it’s part of the uniform here in LA. Oh yes, I’m back in LA. It’s been a whole week since I was last here here on business, which was like two weeks since the previous trip, which was a good two weeks since the one before that, and so I figured I was overdue for another trip.
And as luck would have it, I’m staying in the very fabulous the company gets a corporate rate so you have to stay there hotel.
Wanna know just how fabulous it is? I’m blogging from the hotel lobby. I know! SO fantastic. Because after waking up at 5 am New York time (that’s 2 am LA time for those bad with the time zone thing), making the 8 am flight, landing at 11, going directly to a five hour meeting, then heading back to the office for another hour, I just really don’t want to go to my room. I have absolutely no interest in kicking off my boots that I’ve been wearing for 18 hours, putting on a bathrobe, ordering a grilled cheese on sourdough from room service, and watching pay-per-view. Not one bit. Which is why it works out just perfectly that the hotel’s entire computer system is down and they can’t check me in to begin with.
Really, I couldn’t have asked for more auspicious circumstances.
In fact, were I to be in my room right now, I would never have been chatted up by a guy in a nametag and coke bottle glasses who’s like central casting for a pedophile in the Lifetime movie-of-the-week. And I’m telling you folks, until this has happened to you, you just haven’t lived.
And what’s more, the complimentary drink that the desk clerk didn’t offer me? Delicious. Pinot Noir is my favorite. And the free suite upgrade they didn’t offer me? Spectacular, or so I’ve been told. The room is spacious and the views unparalleled.
I’m all about this hotel. I’ve been here an hour and already I know I’m coming back and bringing friends.
Update: I am in the room. It is the “pre-renovated” wing, as Sean the bellman informs me. However my (crankiness) displeasure is dampened both by the non-complimentary glass of Pinot Noir and the fact that this is the room Joe Pantoliano stays in when he’s here.
Me and Guido the Killer Pimp. That’s two degrees, ladies.