“Are you in Paris?” a family member asked me on Facebook after seeing me post a photo from the Hotel Elysée. I wasn’t. I was in New York. Outside my window, beyond my 14th floor patio, traffic crawled by on East 54th St., but inside my room I could’ve been in the City of Lights.
Maybe I’m a hotel snob. Maybe I’ve become spoiled. I used to think a Holiday Inn was fancy. These days though, when I check into a nice hotel I’m always a bit disappointed when there’s no robe waiting for me in the closet. To me, it’s a symbol for the hotel experience and the pampering feeling I’m hoping to get out of it.
Tibb’s Eve. Tipp’s Eve. Tip’s Eve. Even Tipsy Eve. It doesn’t matter what you call it – it’s December 23rd in Newfoundland and it’s time to have a drink.
Before you even get to the reception desk you have an inkling of the great service you’re going to experience during a stay at the Library Hotel in midtown Manhattan. Before you even get to the hotel, in fact.