on check-out

I generally stay at large, busy hotels where they check-in and check-out scores or even hundreds of guests per day. It seems fair enough that a hotel will want to ensure your particulars when you check in (and particularly the particulars of your credit card), so that they are covered in the event that you disappear or trash the room, or trash the room and disappear, in logical order. Having obtained that however, I really can't understand why the check-out process is always so slow, and why half the time they almost seem surprised that you actually need to leave. Then of course there's the tricky dance of checking the bill. There's been a few times where it seems my scrutiny has given significant personal offence to reception, as though I've just accused them of cheating on me with my best friend. I do wonder if it's all simply a stalling tactic while a cloaked figure scurries up to my room to double-check the mini-bar consumption. Damn you, tamper-evident packaging!

on just not trying (iron cord art 4)

I'm sorry, Hilton Shanghai, but this is lazy and offensive. From the uneven loop lengths, to the drooping centre cinch, it's downright depressing.

on luring me back

Regular readers will be aware of a certain hotel chain favouritism on the part of this traveller. But the reality is that I am easily bought, and the price is not high. It is, however, higher than three green apples, which is the reward I got for my fifth stay at the Hilton Singapore.

It is fortunate for them that the rest of the Hilton chain tend to do a better job, as delightfully evidenced by what was presented to me upon my first stay at Hilton Beijing Wangfujing. From top to bottom, 6 chocolate coated strawberries on a bed of raisins, 6 macaroons on a bed of popcorn, 8 chocolates on a bed of coffee beans. Click on the image and weep.

I'll be back.

on underage executives

Now I love a child prodigy story (anything to accelerate you through those cruel high school years) but here I'm talking about underage access to business and executive lounges. Frankly, no-one under 25 should reasonably even want to be labelled executive, and the only business that the under-10s know about is not up for discussion. As Qantas lounges rapidly become simply a terminal-within-a-terminal (there's a newsagency in the Sydney domestic one, and now I'm just waiting for a Krispy Kreme concession and a Korjo travel adapter stand), I have still at least valued my Hilton Honors Gold status which usually gets me executive lounge access at the hotels. But even those are now experiencing what is presumably labelled "executive-creep" where more and more of the masses find themselves eligible for entry. And apparently their children. Which is weird, because I don't get to bring an adult guest. Anyway, the noise is one thing, and the ignorance of tong usage is worse, but the number of times now I have seen a perfectly good hors d'oeuvre layout sneezed on by a child really gets my goat. When will someone stand up for my right to untainted small eats? And more importantly, why are my withering gazes so ineffectual?

on the evils of drugs

EXEC 1: So what are we doing with the Bulgari account? They want something Monday.
EXEC 2: No, no it's cool, I've been thinking and I know this guy who knows Julianne Moore and apparently she did that Tom Ford movie for like next to nothing 'cause she's a fag hag or something and she forgot about the house repayments.
EXEC 1: She's the one that showed her merkan in that film isn't she?
EXEC 2: Maybe.
EXEC 1: Yeah, totally - this chick I was seeing made me watch it cause it was art or something. Full frontal. But I think she had a t-shirt on.
EXEC 2: Small breasts.
EXEC 1: Doesn't matter. As long as she'll get her kit off.
EXEC 2: Totally, because that is perfectly in sync with the second part of my idea.
EXEC 1: Which is?
EXEC 2: Cockatoos.
EXEC 1: [thinks] Oh my god. That is f'n brilliant.

on life reflecting art

Went to see Up In The Air tonight with fellow traveller Marisa, figuring that the subject matter would have a special resonance. Not so much the travelling around firing people (appealing though that is), but the general familiarity with (and slight addiction to) airports and airline/hotel loyalty schemes. Suffice to say that I was enlightened with new ways to use my Hilton Honors (sic) Gold card, but bemused that the American Airlines Admirals lounges in the movie bore exactly zero resemblance to any Admirals lounge I have encountered in reality. Nice try, AA.

when no means yes

Ah the sweet excitement of scanning your boarding pass at the gate only to see the fluorescent green "Unable to board" message come up on the screen. Because while it could mean that you're mistakenly trying to board a flight to Syracuse instead of Sydney, it's usually more likely that you have been upgraded since checking in. Thus, thanks to an upgrade to Premium Economy I have now achieved my goal of experiencing upstairs on the Qantas A380. There's about 30 premium seats and the rest are Business class, and I can report that they're not nearly so contemptuous with the curtain between them. Somewhat disappointingly, the seats don't seem any different to the Premium seats on the 747 - I had heard they were fancier. I am amused by the announcement that is made in the A380 on landing, requesting patience as the connection of aerobridges can take up to 10 minutes. Since you can watch them being connected on the video screen, however, one can notice a suspicious delay between connection of the three bridges and deplaning for economy - clearly making sure no one from riff-raff class beats the upper classes to duty free.

iron cord art 3

This iron is from the Hilton Singapore and at first I thought there was a distinct lack of effort involved here, but as it sat there on my bedside table (odd place for housekeeping to leave an iron) I came to appreciate its relaxed presence, and the lack of fussiness.

on increasingly inaccurate blog descriptions

Well, despite my previous protestations, I have now officially travelled in business class on a business trip, making a slight
mockery of this blog's justification. Presumably due to the much-publicised fact that business travellers are abandoning business class en masse in these times of belt-tightening, Qantas is obviously stuck with the problem of some fairly inflexible seating layouts. They are obviously saving money by reducing capacity on some routes (the daily Sydney-Tokyo is now A330 instead of 747), which means fuller planes - except in business class (and presumably first). So us upper tier frequent flyers are obviously reaping the benefits.

My recent upgrade to business class was Sydney to Hong Kong, and this time I hit the jackpot - "turn to right sir and proceed up the stairs." For those who have never been upstairs on a 747, it's all business class - only 6 rows of four seats. Once one is seated, it's like the 350-odd people downstairs simply don't exist. Of course, given that it was a day flight, the appeal of lying flat wasn't so apparent, and you realise that the main benefit is really just that level of removal from your fellow passengers. This was unfortunately challenged by the woman I was sitting next to who spoke no English and was determined that I should make selections and adjustments to her entertainment program whenever necessary. Strangely she seemed quite content to watch Wake In Fright (1971 Australian outback film) without any subtitles.

on travel weight gain

I am in an abusive relationship with the breakfast buffet. Every time we get back together it ends in tears. Unfortunately I just can't seem to stay away. I should clarify that I'm not talking about previously encountered questionable buffets. What I am talking about is the buffet of quality and variety such as I repeatedly encounter at the Hilton Kuala Lumpur. I try to justify eating the pan au chocolat by reminding myself that thin and glamorous French people eat them all the time, but I have to concede that they probably haven't already eaten a full plate of omelette, sausages, rendang and roti. I set myself the challenge every time I stay of attending the buffet but resisting its unnecessary advances, and I thought this time I was actually starting to gain the upper hand. Turns out that my strength of will only applies to breakfast, and not for happy hour at the executive club lounge. Damn those cute little pies.