Several years ago, a friend and I took a car from Portland, Oregon to New York to visit his brother who had just started his summer associateship at a big fancy law firm. We arrived on a Friday afternoon after making stops at Yellowstone and Mount Rushmore. We met his brother in his office. I was wearing flip flops at the time--I felt like a jackass with each step. Somehow his brother was able to get off at 5pm (but I think it was with the caveat that he read some 1,000 pages over the weekend), and secure the firm's card for drinks.
Long story short, I woke up in some hotel room that ate into a huge chunk of the spare change I had left after blowing as much as my graduation money as I possibly could on fireworks at various firework depots on the drive cross country (I still have a seemingly endless satchel full in my closet). But, it wasn't the money I was thinking about as I awoke. Rather, I was wondering whether I had fallen asleep in a cloud for the bed in the most inexpensive room in the very expensive hotel was the softest bed I had ever known. It felt like I had sunk into a cocoon of feather pillows and velvet.
Which brings me to the 5-star China hotel. I'm typing this from the Grand International Hotel in Guangzhou, my first actual 5-star experience. The service is impeccable, the restaurants are tasty, the lobby is fabulous, the rooms are well-appointed, tasteful and clean. But, the bed feels like the exact same bed I've slept on every night I've been in China--a gigantic box spring. What gives? Is this some sort of Chinese medicine thing? Are soft beds supposedly bad for people?
I might conjecture that these beds are at the heart of Chinese entrepreneurialism, ;) When I wake up in China, I never feel like sleeping in and I'm always raring to go.
0 comments:
Post a Comment