After a couple of chilly, cloudy days, it was nice to take a walk in the sunshine this afternoon. I checked into my second hotel of the trip, contemplated the room where I would spend my next fourteen nights and decided to get out whenever I had the opportunity. I also needed to stock up.
It’s all about the money on the road. Hotel vending machines can charge $2.00 or more for a bottled water or soft drink. The hotel stores are no better. They profit on the desperation of exhausted travelers and pray for rainy days when people like me stare out the window and try to decide if it’s worth the walk to a nearby store. They know that a large percentage of us will give in to the lure of a quick, precipitation free, but outrageously expensive bottle of water and bag of trail mix. No doubt they have spent a small fortune on consultants who tell them just how much they can push the price envelope based on the prevailing weather in the area.
There’s a Walgreens about four blocks from the hotel and I’ve made that trek many times. You can’t always find a grocery store or a Wal-Mart when you’re travelling, especially if you don’t have a rental car, but you can always find a Walgreens, Rite Aid, CVS or Revco. Usually there are two or three bunched together, the same way a Lowe’s always seems to build across the road from a Home Depot.
I used to buy a pack of Diet Cokes, but I’m on a “no soda” kick right now, so I’m saving some money there. I can grab an extra bottle or two of water from our meeting area for my room and save a little more. Primarily though, I have to keep some food in my room to stop me from eying the room service menu. That menu is like the Sirens call to bored and lonely travelers. I don’t know about other people, but I usually glance at the menu soon after I check into my room (it doesn’t take a genius to look at me and know that food is near the top of my priority list). I glance at the prices, but I’m basically checking only two things:
- Do they have Hot Wings on the appetizer menu?
- How much are the Burgers?
Hot Wings may not seem like that big a deal, but in general I have found that if they do not have Hot Wings, the rest of the menu will be over-priced and probably full of “snob-food.” If they have excluded Hot Wings but included “Hummus” on their appetizer menu, I know immediately that the prices will be too high, the portions too small and the burger will be called something like “chopped angus steak” or “le burger de fromage.” I usually just close the menu in disgust.
Still, after a long day of meetings, the thought of going out to dinner is not very appealing. The only thing worse than eating alone is eating with co-workers who I have already spent the day with. It’s not that I don’t like my co-workers, because for the most part I genuinely do, it’s just that by the end of the day I like to unwind and put the day behind me. Seeing the same faces and talking about the same issues doesn’t really help with that. Besides, I’m a loner…a rebel.
So the options are minimal. If I’m lucky, there’s a takeout place nearby. If the weather is nice, I can walk there and get something to take back to my room. I can also order delivery from Pizza Hut or some local Chinese place (but some hotels don’t allow them to deliver to the rooms, so I have to go the lobby and pick up my order, which kind of defeats the purpose of ordering in the first place). It’s a sad evening ritual, trying to decide what to do, and the longer I ponder my choices, the louder the call of that room service menu becomes. Being weak, I pick it up and glance through it again. Sure, it doesn’t have Hot Wings, and the burger is priced almost as much as a ribeye at the Outback, but I could kick off my shoes if I ordered room service. I wage an internal battle, reminding myself that it’s not just the outrageous menu price, it’s the $3.00 delivery charge, plus tax and the 18% service charge. I always wonder, “Is that gratuity? Do I still need to tip the delivery person?” I tip them anyway, partly because they have carried my food and it seems like the thing to do, and also because they’ve now seen my messy hotel room and me with my socks off.
I do the math in my head and quickly realize that I can easily spend close to twenty five dollars on a burger! That’s insane. I close the menu forcefully.
However, the menu voice argues, it’s just one night. What’s your time worth? What’s the value of your need for relaxation? You have not spent a dime on food today (thanks to your partaking of the continental breakfast and afternoon meeting snacks). You would still be saving a good bit of your per diem for the day.
At this point I would be halfway through an episode of Law and Order: Criminal Intent or NCIS , shows that I never watch at home, but find absolutely magnetic in a hotel room. I would really like to find out who the killer is. “Treat yourself Bruce,” I hear that little voice say, “You deserve it.”
Having food in my room can help avoid the menu debate. I had requested a refrigerator and the hotel graciously complied, so I knew I could purchase items from the Walgreens cooler. They did not have sandwich meat, which was disappointing, because that would have solved my meal dilemma entirely. They did, however, have milk, and on the next aisle they carried a fine selection of cereals. Yummy, I thought, and purchased some Cheerios and a package of environmentally safe bowls. I was set for dinner. I also grabbed some almonds and bag of dark chocolate miniatures to have some kind of snacks. I carried the purchases back to my lodgings confident that I had defeated the menu monster.
Last night, when I returned to my room after working, I quickly realized I had made a fatal mistake. I had purchased the cereal, the milk, and even the bowls to take care of my in room dining, but while patting myself on the back in the aisles of Walgreens, I had forgotten to purchase a spoon. This disrupted my entire plan. I briefly considered just drinking the cereal from the bowl like a child would do, but the vision of spilling milk and wholesome little O’s all over myself was vibrantly clear in my head and sadly accurate based on all past experience.
The menu beckoned, the voice barely restraining laughter at my fruitless attempt to circumvent the inevitable. Defeated, I ordered the expensive burger, and it was good, but more importantly I received a nicely rolled black napkin containing a full set of silverware. As the room service menu watched in silence, I wrapped the shiny silver spoon in the black napkin and hid it in my sock drawer.
Tonight, I shall dine like a King on my own terms…eating Cheerios in a bowl of fresh, cold milk while watching NCIS with my shoes kicked off. And the Room Service Menu will spend the night in the closet.
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