I love the smell of hotel rooms.
It’s always a mix of central AC, cleaning products, with hints of chlorine and coffee. You wouldn’t think these ingredients would be quite so pleasant, but my nose finds them comforting. Maybe hotels simply remind me of summer? Whatever the reason, it always smells like home.
Dad works in hotels. I worked in hotels. A sister, an uncle, and an aunt also toiled in the industry at one point or another. I feel as though the Fitzgeralds grew up amongst the Marriotts of the East Coast, hugging front desk clerks and short-sheeting beds along the way.
Plus, hotels mean you’re on the road – you’re traveling. Such an exhilarating three syllables. Did you know I haven’t left New York City for more than five days at a time since moving here almost two years ago? So we’re taking a quick trip to Boston, and while it will only be a three day excursion, our mini-vacation will give us just enough time to stretch our legs into the uncharted Northeast.
Happy Friday, friends.
I’ll be sure to steal some soap for you.
And don’t worry Dad, I won’t short-sheet the beds.
Or put Vaseline on the phone.
Or plastic wrap under the toilet seat.
No, no, I’m far too mature for that ;)