More travel fun

I'm off at a conference in Salt Lake City this week. OK, technically it's Deer Valley, but close enough. Incredible area. The views are stunning, and the amount of wealth running around threatens to dwarf the mountains. No matter how well off you think you are, come out here for a week and you'll be feeling downright poor (at least by comparison).

I'm staying at a 'hotel' called The Chateaux at Silver Lake at Deer Valley. Quite the name, eh? And notice that I put the noun in quotes. There is good reason for this. Here's how check in went.

I go to the front desk. Perfectly normal. They take my credit card and give me a room key. Fine. I head off to my room (which, naturally, since I'm carrying all my ski equipment, is in another building). I get to the room, open the door, and look around. OK, this is a little different.

The first thing I see is my breakfast table. With 4 chairs. That's a little much for a hotel room.

Next impression is the cooking island. Huh? With bar stool. That, naturally, leads my eye to the kitchen. Not kitchenette, kitchen! How do I distinguish between the two? Well, if it's got a full size subzero refrigerator it ain't no stinkin' 'ette!'

And that's not all. This kitchen is complete. Oven. Pots and pans. Glasses and dishes. Microwave. Coffee maker. Blender!! Toaster. Coffee bean grinder! Probably more I didn't even find.

Wow! I am well on my way to being impressed. I'm a VIP presenter at the conference, and I'm starting to think that I got the seriously upgraded room.

This perception is short-lived.

After dropping my bags I look around for the bedroom. There are a bunch of interior doors. I open the coat closet by the door and it's the bathroom. OK. I'm flexible.

I try the next 4 doors. 3 are locked, and the last is the closet. And that's all the doors there are. Hmmmm. I scan the rest of the room. Couch. Coffee table. 2 chairs. Fireplace. All very nice, but, um, where the hell's my bedroom??

I call the front desk. "Hey guys, hate to bother you and all, but where exactly is my bedroom?"

"Oh, sir, you have a Murphy bed."

"OK, and is in the Murphy bedroom? Is this like the White House or something?"

"Oh, no, sir. You pull it out of the wall!"

"I what?"

"Pull it out of the wall."

It's about now that I notice the expanse of wall paneled is such a way that it doesn't really match the rest of the room. With two handles. You have got to be kidding me! But no. I pull it down and check it out. It's actually pretty comfortable. And it's nice to sleep on.

So it turns out this isn't really a hotel. They rent the rooms like one, but the rooms are condos owned by the various rich people I've been seeing around. When the owners come to visit, they open all those locked doors and have a lovely 3 bedroom, 3 bath, suite with a nice kitchen (that'd be my room!)

Thing is, though, if you have someone checking in to your 'hotel,' don't you think this is the kind of thing that you might mention? Or maybe not. Perhaps the only fun the staff has here is watching the hapless guests try to figure out where to sleep.

I wonder how many have ended up on the couch.