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  • Writer's picturemaggiehsmith07

Basic Bitch


I’m overnight in CT and staying at a hotel that was recommended to me by the managers of a building that I partner with. It’s very nice. I feel like in response to hotel recommendations, I should say, “Thanks. What’s it like? Because I’m a basic bitch. No. Really. It’s my Midwest upbringing. And my family was kinda, sorta broke but would indulge my one and only hotel request and book a place that had a swimming pool. Places like the Spinning Wheel hotel or the End of the Line Caboose Motel up in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. So really. On a scale of Spinning Wheel to Ritz, where does this place fall?”

This accommodation is closer to Ritz than it is Spinning Wheel. The toilet seat is heated. This is an amenity I don’t need in my life. To top it off, the seat slowly rises as you approach the toilet as if it’s being summoned by a demon. I can’t quite figure out how to flush it. Mainly because I cannot figure out half the lighting in this goddamn place. I’ve accidentally raised my shades once while hitting a vague button labeled “welcome”, which turns on some but not all of the lights and raises the blinds. I hit “Privacy” numerous times, thinking this would shut the blinds. I couldn’t figure out what the hell that did until I left my room and saw “Privacy” illuminated in red outside my room. I’m fairly certain that perhaps the Caboose motel had a cardboard placard you could hang from the door knob. Unfortunately, the Caboose place truly did reach the end of the line and is no longer functioning as a hotel. Although, I did read you can still rent a caboose as the individual units were sold off. I'm sure you still have to put the toilet seat up your damn self and the part your buns rest on is not heated. I cannot imagine my dad navigating this toilet. The thought legit makes me laugh. Once when we went on our catastrophic camping trip, my dad sat on a non-heated but well Vaselined seat. He was not amused.

The restaurant at this hotel scored remarkably high on Yelp so I figured, what the hell. It’s close. The variety of people dining at this establishment was a rather eclectic group. There were 4 women, me included, dining solo. One woman had a book pressed to her face in the dim light of the restaurant. A couple was seated next to me and the man grumbled, “Right under the tree. Great.” The hostess did not take the hint. I’m not sure what kind of date they were on but I heard the woman saying they could “re-negotiate”. Then, “Fine. No touching.” And she moved her hand away. I wish Andrea was here because her eavesdropping skills are far superior to my own. The owner worked the room and then relocated the couple to a table that was not "under a tree". I irrationally thought that perhaps he was in the mob. The owner, I mean. Which is why I am not telling you where this place is or the name of this place. I legit think the tip of my cat’s tail would be cut off and left on my hotel pillow as a SERIOUS WARNING. Sure. The guy greets you all warm with one of those weird kisses to the cheek (Buddy – I’m not even a HUGGER for Christ’s sake!) but cross him and fluffy gets the ax.

Well. I’m going to sign off. Mainly because it’s getting dark and I cannot figure out how to turn the light on next to my bed. I’d like to read so I imagine doing so with a book pressed to my face like the woman in the restaurant.


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