Breakfast in bed

Although the Cambay Sapphire (the hotel where I'll be mostly living the next 5 months) reminds me a bit of a used car -- fresh veneer masking deeper issues -- its actually brand new, as the nauseating smell of fresh paint confirms. I'm the first guest to stay in this room, ever. Which means it doesn't yet reek of smoke - but it also means they haven't worked out the kinks... oh the "details" let's say, are just slightly off.

Little things... like the shower curtain ending 6 inches above the lip of shower. Or the facet that doesn't quite reach the basin of the sink or the toilet which either 1) intermittently allows me to flush or 2) runs constantly. No soap dish either... come on, now, soap is something you definitely will be using.

I particularly enjoy the safe that opens directly into the closet door, rendering it unusable, or the beautiful gym full of equipment which upon closer inspection you cannot actually turn on. But my absolute favorite is the number of lightswitches -- at least 25, many doing nothing. The first night I spent an hour trying to find the damn switch to kill the recessed lighting... oh yes, in the corner, behind a chair, next to an outlet by the floor. Of course.

As one of maybe five guests and the only white woman in the hotel, I get certain privileges. Every single employee from the cleaning people to the room service people to the chef and the head manager knows exactly who and I am what room I'm staying in -- and they are all striving to do everything they can for me. However, as there are easily 10 employees for every guest, this type of attention is actually getting quite annoying. Yesterday morning at breakfast I struggled for about half a second to open a thing of butter, suddenly 4 people were there to assist me. I mean really. So now I've taken to having breakfast delivered to my room... which I have discovered is complimentary in my package.

Hmmmmm, breakfast in bed -- I could get used to this.