i finally succumbed to the allure of familiarity last night. previously anonimity would have been sufficient. not in a mood for continuing my negotiations on how to be the white frontman of a black-owned security firm with the nightwatchman in Mellville ("because when you speak to your own people, you can ask for more money"), i opted instead for the safety and comfort of a Holiday Inn Garden Court close to the airport.
that was reason no. 1: close to the airport. (safety and comfort were mere filler words...there’s a technical term for words like that. ask Ponelis.)
reason no. 2, which turned into reason no. 3, was the proximity of a nice chinese-owned japanese restaurant in Croydon (go figure). it became no. 3 because it turned out the hotel had a Spur in the lobby. i am guilty. i opted for a no. 2, i am ashamed to say. i got served my Eeta Fajita by Lucky. me.
reason no. 4 was a decent chair to sit and work on, which tells you something about the other chairs in the other places. Rickety is not just a friend of Rupert en wat hard is is hard.
reason no. 5 was a parking lot. yes indeed, instead of an overgrown first-come-first-serve vine tunnel where you have to stay out latest to get out first in the morning, i could park anywhere for R7.
the rest are not reasons, they are bonuses. bonuses such as both movie magic channels, both showing crap (but at least). bonuses such as SIX pillows (actually this upset me. they surely inspect pillows in the morning for macassars or indents or residual drool and decide which covers to replace. maybe they missed one...my one, the one with my head on.) and do everyone lie on the same bedspread as i do for the first 2 hours of the night, watching soapies, hoping for better times?
intermission: the other day i had to develop training guidelines for school-leavers entering the hospitality industry - it included how to change linen, keep bathrooms clean and dealing with disabled guests and their luggage. i was not good at it, but i learnt some interesting tidbits such as never let a bedspread lie on the ground. it's all good and well if the person cleaning the room does that, but a guest like me lies down on it, puts my suitcase on it, rips it off onto the floor and do general... bedspready things with it. and i'm sure i'm not the only one. so why bother when cleaning the room? did anyone from the qualifications authority bother to stay in a hotel? end of intermission
i like the way the bathrooms flood in all hotels. they all seem to have the pathetic little shower curtains which most people just keep hanging outside, because inside the taps are in the way and they form a huge gap right where the nozzle sprays and the water pools and pools and eventually spills from the edge of the bath. out of courtesy i wrap my earbuds in teepee as they are the only items i leave in the she-bin. and i always picture Vincent listening to the unfortunate bowel movements of airplane-food induced dispositions. because the airvents conduct sound. let me say this again. the airvents [next to the internal sewerage pipes in hotels] conduct sound [into the bathrooms]. kakofonie.
the only other comment i can make is that last night’s cupboards didn’t fit. they weren’t melamine or chipboard or whatnot. they were funny, bosveld-chic loggy type things, painted white (you know the bosveld lodges i’m talking about with the thick trea/pole/log furniture. those slatted kitchen cupboards go with them.) it was a funny throwback to ... something, possibly the corporate culture of Southern Sun, the previous brand to decorate the interior of the large and homogenic edifice i find so fascinating to describe.
i got three hours of sleep. after 2 hours 45 minutes Will Oldham woke me. a b-side to a Palace Brothers single. (oh, ahem, i sleep with my iPod plugged into my ears). it was the strangest, most interesting song when it woke me. seriously weird and catchy. so i listened to it again an hour later at 5AM on my 2km drive to the airport and it didn’t work anymore. still nice and everything, but not freakily strange. i need to make a playlist of songs i wake up to. they are usually pretty weird, at that moment, as if they break the natural harmony of someone (me) snoring half-sitting, half hanging from the bed, with laptop in... well, lap.
like now. they called me by name. i actually napped through that last sentence. i am late for my flight. ah, life...