Fester in Sin City

I think most times people check in for a flight or hotel, there's always this tiny part of them that hopes the agent will pause over her keyboard, look up at us say "It looks like we have a free upgrade available...would you like to be moved up to First Class/a penthouse suite?" And since I'm like most 'normal people' (just with a lot bigger tummy and more personal issues with food), I too find myself nervously smoothing down my hair, practicing my most winning "Aren't I lovely traveller" smile and trying to hide anything on me that screams "riff raff" (i.e- my cheap purse, my cheap suitcase, my cheap shoes and my cheap clothes...so yeah, NOT easy to do folks...).

In any case, though the hotel I'm at is right in the center of The Strip, it's one of those dated relics that has NOT been renovated in like, thirty years. Even worse- it sports a 'tropical' theme which at best- is kitchy, at worst- tacky. So when I checked in yesterday, I was totally unprepared and unimpressed when the receptionist proudly announced that I'd been given a free room upgrade (which I think was because I booked the conference).

This is because having stayed at this exact hotel two years ago for the same conference, I knew exactly what the rooms looked like (think 1970s bamboo canopy beds with mirrors on the ceiling, pink bathtubs and clamshell sinks)- so being granted a few hundred extra square feet of space and a tiki mini bar? Sooooo not worth getting excited about. Fester and I were over it.

So after rolling my suitcase no less than two full miles to get to my room, I found that my room key didn't work. I was curtly instructed to come back and get a new set of keys, which I actually balked at and requested that security come and let me in so I wouldn't have to haul all my luggage around again. Apparently some hotel clerks find it perfectly acceptable to make a sweaty, porky pregnant woman lugging around 18 pieces of conference gear walk all the way back to the front desk to fix their mistake (and of course I wouldn't dream of mentioning the hotel name here since it shares the same name as a very large orange juice distributor that sounds a lot like "Mopicana").

Anyway, once I got into the room, I was pleased to see that it was probably about the same size as my 3-bedroom home. And while yes, yes...there was the usual kitchy Hawaiian crap in the room (the tiki mini bar, the bamboo bed frame with mirrored walls), I was quite exicted to see the giant hot tub next to the bed, the steam room bathtub and the excellent view of the Strip. Sweet!

So last night after indulging in a delicious $15 hamburger at New York New York (I'm not a steak, prime rib or crab leg kinda girl) I decided to fire up the 'ol hot tub and soak for a bit. And you know...it was really quite nice! While soaking (it was brief since I didn't want to overheat little Fester), I got to gaze out over the entire, sparkling Strip below. And once that I was done, I followed it up with a hot shower in the steam bath tub. I assumed between the two relaxing experiences that I would drift right off to bed, but I forgot about the Fester Factor...which meant I woke up 2-3 times to pee, 1 time because of a leg cramp, 1 time because of a back cramp and 3 times to put the folded up towel back under my belly. :-)