I am sitting on the fourth floor of the most bourgouis hotel downtown, not in a foreign city. In fact I’m only 15 minutes by foot from my apartment, which is where my girlfriend sits right now, about to join a video-chat with grad students scattered across the country.
In a Midwestern college town, you can afford even the most boujee hotel so long as there are no major events happening such as sports. My friend Sam has booked us the Queen Suite, which has separate rooms for the the main suite and the sleeping area. Also we’ve brought his black lab mut named Kuzya; the hotel is pet-friendly, one of the reasons for staying here, though not the deciding one.
If there was a magic wand to grant anything Sam wanted, he would’ve spent these 72 hours in the wilderness, camping. But it’s so cold that wouldn’t be able to find anybody join him for such an escapade. Not in the short amount of time he had. Plus, even if the weather was nice, what sane person would agree to what he was requesting.
There was no way we could pull it off in his house. I’d seen the inside of it for the first time Saturday night. It was in squalid shape, appearing exactly how you would expect an alcoholic’s house would appear. Plus it was smack dab on one of the busiest roads in town. Too much noise for the next 72 hours. Sam has an aversion to uncontrollable sounds. He’s okay blasting music or the TV, the latter he’s doing currently, but cars and drunk people drive him nuts.
When he had suggested a Holiday Inn on the west side of town, I immediately knew I wouldn’t stay there. I pointed out how it’d suck being by the highway. Not just for him, but me. The Holiday Inn would be just far enough where I couldn’t visit my girlfriend on a daily basis. Just far enough that grabbing nutritious food would become a near infeasability, which would probably relegate me to ordering junk food such as pizza.
Spending 72 hours in a hotel located right off a major highway wasn’t something I was willing to do. I needed to be able to live my regular life, even if only in spurts of an hour or two at a time.
To escape the noise of capitalism, we decided to go to its core, where the capitalists have built a fortress to protect those inside from the chaos outside.
I am sitting on the fourth floor of the most boujee hotel writing this.