Hotel Life

We have always had romantic notions of hotel living--like Royal of the Royal Tennenbaums, or Karen on Will & Grace making it with the the maintanance man at the Plaza Hotel during her divorce. Our fantasy includes terry cloth robes and slippers, daily maid service, champagne at our door, and lots of movies on demand. We fantasize about striking it rich just so we can make a habit of room service. We love hotels so much that we spend more time figuring out where we are going to stay in a city than we figuring out what we want to do there--even if it's one night in Bucks County, PA.
In daydreams we think about someday owning our own inn. We plan our menu, our muffin varieties, what type of bedding we will use, what type of soap will be available, and even the font on our letterhead. It's no wonder what we most love about hotels is the details.
So when it was necessary to treat ourselves to a vacation, but we didn't have the means to actually go anywhere, we decided to book a night in a hotel in town and pretend we didn't actually live here. We considered the Hotel San Jose, the Driskill, and a number of B&B's, but we ultimately decided on The Stephen F. Austin Hotel because it was right downtown, reasonably priced, and still in the boutique vein. We could have some semblance of luxury without breaking the bank.
The InterContinental Stephen F. Austin is right on Congress and 7th Street. If we desired, we could have had our choice of a night on 6th or Red River, movies at the Paramount or downtown Alamo Drafthouse, bar hopping in the Warehouse district. We had a host of dining options to consider as well--Japanese, Irish Pub Food, tapas, even a whole wharehouse of spaghetti. Our S.O. and I circled downtown in the beating sun only to end up back at the hotel for fancy drinks and then an Italian dinner just down the street. It was all excellent. Our drink was a blue martini, his was a scotch on the rocks. We sat back, comfortable, in cozy chairs, a view of the city from the balcony just outside the doors. We could see each other, hear each other, we could relax and enjoy the buzz. Nice.
The hotel itself is sort of on the grander side of the fence, with a large staircase in the lobby, a concierge at a concierge desk, and an expensive restaurant attached. In the rooms you'll find your toilet paper and kleenex fanned, a bevy of toiletry supplies including a "vanity kit" and shaving kit, and the requisite terry cloth robe hanging from the bathroom door. They do turn-down service at night with mints on each pillow. Our bed is huge and comfy with a spattering of uneccessary but sure enough cozy pillows.
From our room we look out onto Congress and onto downtown and beyond. It's a nice place to spend the night. But what we really wanna do is hole up there and churn out the great American novel, or at least the great American young adult novel.
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