My Fair Lazy-One Reality Television Addict's Attempt to Discover if Not Being a Dumb Ass Is the New Black, Or, a Culture-Up Manifesto by Jen Lancaster

Author:Jen Lancaster
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Non-Fiction, Humour
ISBN: 9780451229861
Publisher: NAL Hardcover
Published: 2010-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

My opera and World Cuisine educations are on temporary hold since I’m on my way to New York! I guess I shouldn’t have mocked Stacey last year when she entered all those crazy recipe contests, because that’s why we’re on a plane right now. Stacey’s one of three finalists in a cocktail competition, which is hilarious, considering she’s never been a bartender.153 But I’m not laughing because she got an all-expenses-paid trip to the city, and I’m her plus-one.

When we land, we’re going first to her hotel and then to mine. We’ve learned over the years that the very best vacations include some alone time, so we’re not sharing her free room. When I tried to reserve a room at her hotel, it turned out they were fully booked. I checked out all the hotels in one square mile of hers and had the requisite sticker shock upon seeing New York hotel prices. I guess I’ve never been to New York not on business, so I’ve never paid for myself.

I end up choosing the Four Seasons, partly because I was able to find a sweet deal on the Internet, and partly because I’m extremely loyal to any organization that turns my book into chocolate. The price is still higher than what I’d pay at a Westin or a Hyatt, but I can justify it because the rest of the trip is free, and I’ve earned a little luxury after hauling ass all over the country for a month.

Of course, Fletch was less easy to sway. I finally changed his mind by convincing him (a) it’s only two nights, (b) I’m sure to get a funny experience out of it since my staying there smacks vaguely of a Beverly Hillbillies episode, and (c) if I do get a good story, we can write it off.

Our flight’s without incident and traffic from LaGuardia’s surprisingly light, so we get to Stacey’s hotel before we know it. When I checked it out online, I saw a twee little European boutique hotel. But when we enter, I learn something very important about photos on the Internet: things are not always as they appear.154

The lobby manages to feel both empty and crowded, which I assume has something to do with the cracked, barely-more-than-six-foot-high ceilings. The carpet runners are threadbare, and the furniture’s old and shoddy. Turns out the ambient glow from the photos was not mood lighting—rather, it was most likely an imperfection-masking dollop of Vaseline on the cameras lens.

The walls are empty of any kind of adornment, but the good news is there are plenty of random nails still sticking out, should one suddenly muster up a painting or framed photograph.

While I hang behind with our bags, Stacey heads to the check-in desk, where most of the staff is busy either spraying one another with juicy sneezes or hacking into Starbucks napkins. I make a mental note not to touch anything in the lobby, because I’m fairly sure this is Ground Zero for the swine flu.

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