Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Perhaps my devil may care attitude was premature in regards to the hotel. After room service kept us up until 3 am getting our order wrong about 3 times, we were looking forward to sleeping until our breakfast in bed at 10 am. Which arrived at 9 am. And it’s supposed to be included in our room rate, but they sent up a bill for $56. I think we may go home today.

Well they may have liked us at this hotel last night, but I don’t think they do anymore. We got upset when we came back to the room at 9pm and saw a maid walking out, but when we got in the room nothing had been cleaned. We got to wondering just what in the hell she was doing in our room if she wasn’t cleaning it, so we called down to the front desk to ask, and they didn’t know, so I went to talk to the manager, and he didn’t know but he sent someone up to clean.

Then I called down asking what package we had because I didn’t have any details on it, and spoke to someone in reservations and she asked me if I remembered the name of the lady who I booked the room with a few weeks ago and I said I didn’t know but that I didn’t think she knew much about what was going on (because it took a good 20 minutes to book a room, most of it on hold while she asked questions of the manager), then the lady on the phone got insulted because she thought it I meant her because her name was on the reservation, but actually it was that my brother had talked to her the other day when he called in to get us an upgrade. So then she transferred us to room service who knew nothing about a package. Oh well, we may or may not get fed tomorrow morning, but you know what? It doesn’t matter, because…

We bought each other new laptops for Valentine’s Day and I love mine. It’s one of those new adorable Apple 12 inch aluminum powerbooks and it’s small and light and cute and beautiful. So to hell with random maids wandering around our hotel doing who knows what, and to hell with room service mixing up my eggs benedict order – I have a new toy, and they can’t take that away from me!

Seeing if this new palm browser works with Movable Type…

… is to be lucky enough to have a brother like mine.

Summary – we’re staying in a hotel where we’re being treated like royalty; we had first row tickets for the rodeo (and I got dirt down my shirt from the bucking broncos thundering past); and we switched between first row seats and cool Terrace level seats for the Jewel concert.

Hub and I came to San Antonio for Valentine’s weekend, to stay in a chic new hotel and pig out on good food and soak in the ambience of the Riverwalk. I grew up in San Antonio and sometimes I miss it terribly.

My brother called me up a few weeks ago and asked me if I was interested in any tickets to the rodeo. I checked out the performers, looked to see who hub might enjoy most, him not being a country and western fan, and saw that Jewel was playing on 2/13. Since it was so close to Valentine’s, we decided to make a trip out of it. I looked on a bunch of hotel reservation sites for a place on the river but everything was sold out or $450 a night except for this one new hotel, Hotel Valencia, which was brand spanking new – barely a month open. I made reservations there and mentioned it to my sis-in-law, who said that my brother was one of the investors and that I should call him and get a discount. Which I did, of course. A penny saved is a penny more that I can spend on a new laptop.

He called the hotel and put me on The List. When we got here, they fell all over themselves being nice to us. We got a tour of all the public areas, personal introductions from almost all the staff around, and a promise that anything we needed, we should call down and they’d provide.

The room is very nice and quite contemporary. The closet and bathroom doors have frosted glass inserts; the bath towels are all waffle weave rather than terrycloth; all the soap and shampoo things have different and wonderful aromas. The bedroom is completely decorated in neutrals – beige walls, grey carpet with a brown sisal area rug on top, comfy brown leather chair and footstool, a huge case of bamboo sticks on top of the long built-in desk that also houses the television, faux fur bedspreads, brown leather headboards, etc. The only touch of color is a small print of the prow of a Venetian gondola, done in electric blue. Also there are two high-speed internet access ports, and net access is free.

The effect is striking but comfortable. The only drawback that I’ve noticed is that walls are very thin. We can hear people in the next room or in the hallway like they’re in the room with us. No biggie, in that case I’ll just crank down the AC for white noise.

We left the hotel and went to the swank new SBC center for the rodeo, first stopping at the New Frontier Club for dinner – prime rib, garlic cheddar mashers, green beans, yum. My brother stopped in while we were eating to have a drink and gave us another pair of tickets on the Terrace Level to use during the concert because the acoustics were better up there.

A little late for the rodeo, we got there in time to see the calf scramble, barrel racing, Budweiser Clydesdales (we were so close, one of them drooled on me which I casually wiped on hub), and bronc and bull riding. Other than the chick in the seat next to me occupying my ribcage with her elbow, it was really cool. The seats were just your basic best seats in the house – 50 yard line, first row, close enough to get spattered with dirt and horse sweat. I’m glad we didn’t take the kids, because I surely would have had my nose broken by the three year old crawling over me trying to escape from the massive animals who looked like they were going to sit on top of us.

When the concert started we watched from the first row for a while, then decided to move to the Terrace Club when the guy behind us wouldn’t stop shouting at the top of his longs about the percussion section to his girlfriend. That’s a man who deserved to get a fork in the eye. And then during the slow songs his girlfriend sang along at the top of her lungs – off key. She drowned out Jewel on “Foolish Games”. Twit. We could hear much better up at club level, but by that time the concert was just about over.

Upon returning to the room, we found a bottle of Evian on ice and a basket of oranges with a handwritten note from the hotel manager welcoming us and telling us to call if we needed anything.

So here’s a big thanks to my brother, who made possible a very nice evening, full of good food, good entertainment, and good lodging.

7. Blogging from a Jewel concert.

Listen to this 25 second music file. Now listen to this 25 second music file. What do you think? And can anyone name the sources?

It’s M.S.’s birthday. Go bug her. Someone send her a virtual stripper or something.

After laughing our way through the movie, we decided to get a late-night meal at Magnolia Cafe. We sat down and perused the menu, then hub nudged me with his eyes and said “Problem customer”. I looked over to where he was indicating – a guy in a girl in a booth by the window. They were complaining about the service. Suddenly the girl lashed out with a barrage of “Fuck”s, mostly directed at the manager who was talking to her. The manager told her to get out of the restaurant; she didn’t appreciate being cursed at. (Scene from Clerks: “You’re not allowed to rent here anymore!” “Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeah!” Man, that cracks me up for some inescapable reason.)

The man at the booth then started spouting about his First Amendment Rights(tm). People just don’t seem to understand that the first amendment doesn’t give you carte blanche to, say, yell “Fire!” in a movie theater (although we should have done so during the movie tonight, as it would probably have been more entertaining than Final Destination 2) or go into a private business establishment and start verbally abusing the staff.

So the manager went to call the cops. In the time it took for them to show up, the couple plus their two friends in the booth next to them went outside and started pacing around.

It is important to note at this point that I had noticed a large and visible bulge in the small of the back of the man in the booth. I do have some experience in noting if someone is ‘printing’ or not, and this guy was printing.

I started to get nervous. So did hub. We looked for the waiter so we could change our order to go, and began to understand why the original couple was complaining about the bad service. I checked out the bathroom area for a back door – no luck. If we left, we were going to have to walk through the four pissed-off pacing people in the front of the restaurant.*

Well this was a dilemna. Just then the cops arrived. I only saw one car, but later discovered that three units responded. For about thirty minutes, the cops talked to the PPP* as we watched and waited for the front to clear. Hub said not to worry – it was APD, and if anyone started to get crazy, the police would just shoot them. Finally, the PPP’s friends drove off. That left the original duo – the guy who looked like he was packing and his foul-mouthed woman friend. Anxiously we waited while they wandered back and forth in front of the plate glass windows, the woman waving her arms around in an agitated manner. Finally they left too, and one of the cop cars did, leaving two behind to pull up and chat with each other. We made it out without incident and are safely home, where hub is now lovingly playing with his guns.

Was the guy carrying legally? I don’t know. I do know that hub was, and that he’s very relieved that he wasn’t involved in a situation where he might have to use his weapon. He also swears that he’ll never go out in public with only one mag again. Magnolia Cafe. Who’da thunk?

*”Pissed-off pacing people” has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?