My hotel

 

YummYummy loves a getaway and decided we should meet up in New York City for the weekend. In an attempt to avoid me checking/holding my bags at the wrong hotel, she made a suggestion, “Let’s just stay at your hotel this time.”

 

Thus, I made the reservation and, because I was again arriving before her, I checked my luggage. Just like the time I left them there sans reservation, the staff were very kind. So kind, that they offered me an upgrade to a “Spectacular” view room and an early check-in (I’d arrived at 8 AM and they were hoping to have me checked in by noon).

 

I tooled around town for a wee bit and, around 11, they phoned to tell me my spectacular room was ready. I returned to my hotel and the doorman greeted me, by name. I could get used to this. I entered my room and found it was truly spectacular. About an hour later I received a call from the front desk, proper salutation and all, asking if I would grant YummYummy permission to have a key. “Yes, of course,” I replied and added, “Thank you for asking.”

 

A few minutes later, I heard the sound of children in the hallway and opened the door to find YummYummy’s kids anxiously awaiting entrance – one of them had a rather quizzical look on his face. YummYummy was right behind them, gave me a hug and said, “Our cab driver was a very black man.” “Probably still is,” I interjected. “Anyway, he (the quizzical one) was watching the driver, quite intently, then asked if you were brown,” she told me.

 

“That explains his quizzical look. I haven’t been brown since August. Decided to go back my roots. What do you think?” I asked. “Blonde looks great on you and I love your hotel,” she replied. “Spectacular, isn’t it?!” I replied.

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