I'm going to miss my Tuesdays With Dorie assignment again this week. It's not that I have anything against this week's selection -- in fact, I was rather looking forward to the Chocolate Whopper Malted Drops (selected by Rachel of Confessions of a Tangerine Tart). Whoppers ROCK. But I'm traveling again this week, so no dice.
Since you asked, though (and you'll be kind enough to pretend you did ask), I'll share travel stories.
This week, I'm back in Denver. I get to come to Denver a few times each year because my primary client is based here, so many meetings occur in lovely downtown. I love this city -- and the weather here, especially in the summer, when Arkansas is so miserably humid -- so I don't mind these trips at all. (Last year, I was able to tack a few extra days onto a business trip so I could fulfill a long-standing aspiration and go skiing.)
While in Denver, I usually stay at the Magnolia, a boutique hotel that holds a special place in my heart because of the wonderful Harry's Bar and because they have a milk and cookies happy hour every night.
This time, though, we're staying at The Curtis. (Not my doing, but probably for the best, since my last trip to Denver may have involved a little too much bourbon sampling, possibly resulting in an episode of eavesdropping as an aging bar lech tried to pick up a naive conventioneer, followed by the unsolicited declaration that he was full of shit, which doomed his chances of scoring. But that's another post.)
I knew I was in for a different lodging experience when the cab let me out at the curb in front of the hotel, right next to the sandwich-board sign that marked the valet parking stand. It read, "Dude! Where's my car?"
In the entry way, the words "Stay Happy" are spelled out in a rotating light pattern on the floor. Instead of a gift shop, there's a small section off the registration desk that sells retro toys, including the robot from "Lost in Space."
All of the guest room floors have a theme. My room is on the 13th floor (yes, there is one), and the theme is horror movies. When the elevator stops, the intercom plays a recording of Jack Nicholson saying, "Here's Johnny!" The doors open to a cutout of Nosferatu. A hallway mirror is etched with "We have traced the call. It's coming from inside the hotel."
Inside my room, the desk has a framed picture of an arched, hissing black cat.
There's a Dudley Do-Right Bobblehead in the bathroom. Still trying to figure out the horror film connection with this one.
The water (the kind you have to pay $X.XX for if you drink it) is in a flask-shaped bottle with risque-looking demons called "Liquid Salvation Ultra-Hydrating Water." I'm a little scared to try it, but how can I NOT?
The alarm clock is a convertible Volkswagon. (Duckie, my traveling companion, is quite enjoying himself.)
My favorite detail, though, is the "Do Not Disturb" sign":
So now I'm off to bed in my kitschy room on the Horror Movie Floor of the Stoner Hotel. More later -- including details of an award graciously bestowed by one of my favorite foodie bloggers (thanks, n.o.e.!!) and more lame excuses about how upcoming travel will make it hard to keep my baking commitments.
But first... I have some alcohol to metabolize.