When I was 23, I stayed at my first (and last) Ritz Carlton, in Palo Alto. It was only a stop on a string of fabulous business hotels from which I’d collected small bars of soap and shoe shine mitts: The Breakers in Palm Beach, Hotel Nikko Beverly Hills, the Pierre and the Plaza and the Waldorf-Astoria and three different W Hotels in New York City â I could go on. Fan-freaking-tastic.
I loved it, but as I was traveling on business, I rarely got to experience much more than the heady delight of opening the door to a room that cost way more than my shoes (even my nicest shoes). I wasn’t paying the bill, ultimately; but I would have to pay out of pocket for things such as:
- minibar purchases ($7 for a candy bar at the W?)
- phone calls (before the days of ubiquitous cell phones, I think I spent $14.98 for one call)
- valet tips (evidently $5 is a starting rate at these fancy places)
- breakfast ($10 for granola, $12 if you want milk)
Now that I’m an adult traveling on my own dime, I stay at hostels.</