A Weekend at the High-End Resort

Just spent a very nice fall getaway weekend with the wife. New car, beautiful weather, uncluttered roads, and the absolutely magnificent, particolored leaves drifting down as we swooped through the passes and the hollers of the interior mid-Atlantic. Great weekend with my delicious 40-something wife, the kids in the care of a good buddy. Some nice, quick time apart.

And we ended up at a very high-end resort. Former hunting lodge for rich folks which had passed through a number of owners and finally ended up with yet another obscenely rich rotund white guy, him beaming--of course, he's insanely righ--over two chins in the brochures, in his $500 tie and $1000 jacket, with his massive $200 cigar in his hand, yeah, whatever. Great place, in a beautiful location. And we registered to find we've been bumped up to the private club level, in a giant suite with our own butler. Very nice indeed, and unexpected. A tiny little bit of service to us which endeared me to the place, and made me want to return, even before we'd seen the room(s).

Our butler hurried off to get my wife a Bailey's on ice, which we'd mention in the merest passing, as a joke really, while unseen servants took our stuff right on up to our room. Nice touch. The car had already disappeared, and a guy in truly ridiculous hunting livery, right down to a very expensive and shiny top hat appeared to hand me my claim check. More excellent service, anticipatory service, the best kind, the kind I'd expect paying $500/night for a place to shower, shave and sleep.

Up to the room with the butler, who picked us up in the lobby. We're on the private floor, so have to swipe our room card into a special slot on the elevator, a nice security touch, but also a very subtle yet high-profile way to show everyone else in the elevator you're headed to the top floor, with the other important and/or rich folks. Hey, you just might be somebody, and the lower-floor rabble take that slightest step backward, the better to take you in, to study you, to compare themselves to you, to ask themselves if you're actually someone of note. But us, no way, just boring reg'lar folk, living it up for a few days.

We got a tour of the private artwork on display up there in the club floor hallways, and it was impressive, too, with a no-shit piece of famous art that I remembered seeing in a book or poster or on TV or some such. Couldn't name the artist or the painting, but recognized it instantly. Kind of interesting, cognitively dissonant in a pleasant way, to encounter that kind of thing, a famous piece of art, right there on the wall, where you can just step right up to it and really look at it, the private property of someone who makes more money in interest and profit in a day than you'll make in your entire working lifetime. That was a pretty big jolt, to come up with that little personal metric as I looked at his painting (which I wouldn't purchase myself, eve if had I that kind of money).

Then into the suite, with 20-foot ceilings and wonderful everything. Expensive, heavy, wooden furniture, with more expensive upholstery. Everything very conservative. Lots of gold trim everywhere. Lots of marble, everywhere in the two bathrooms. Fantastic view out the front of the place over the mountains to the west. The fridge with all of its stuff complementary in its entirety. So much for the $4.85 Diet Cokes, a very nice departure if you ask me.

Then some relaxation time and then down to the resort's expensive French-y restaurant for our scheduled dinner. The service truly was pretty crappy. I'm not a fan of French cuisine in general; I find the food tasty if over-hyped and over-produced, and always, absolutely always far too small on the portions. And this place was no different. Lots of expensive wine, and a set-price meal, which I went with. Great presentation, lots of fun, and it took forever, waiting for the next course of tiny-portioned whatever to show up. And all in all the meal was about $250 for the two of us, and it took over two hours to crawl through five courses. I've had much better food and service, in a number of places, especially at those kinds of prices. Come to think of it, I had a comparably priced meal with my wife at one of the best high-end restaurants in Disney World in March, and it was so much better than this place. Better service, better food, better wine.

Then upstairs and to bed in an overly soft bed with overly soft pillows. I did get a kick out of the Pillow Menu, with a choice of about 15 differnet types of pillows from which to choose. Water and feathers and down and fluff and cotton and seed husks and fiberfill and foam, with a zillion choices for pillow cases as well. All I had to do was call up our butler and ask for the right pillow, and bam, it would be there. Sure, I could do it, but what's the point for a pillow I'm going to use for about 7 hours? If I were going to live there for a few nights or weeks, sure, I'd switch out. But really, what's the point for just a few hours? I guess that's the egalitarian in me, the equality-minded liberal, not wishing to bother the butler--whom I'm paying for with my very high room rate--over something as small as this.

Up in the morning somewhat early, and into the club lounge. One of my favorite places in a high-end hotel, the lounge in the club floor. One of the best deals and best places to hang out, especially for breakfast and before dinner. Sit and read, get some chow and a drink or two, and be waited on very privately in a very comfortable setting, without having to pay for it. Great deal. Had a couple of bagels with some very tasty cream cheez as I read the local paper.

Then out the door and off on our exciting local adventure. The place was expensive as hell, yeah, but fun to splurge a little bit, to literally see how the other half lives. And off down the road with my delightfully delicious wife sitting next to me.