Room 108

If the hotel you're making reservations with suddenly offers you a 40% discount for no apparent reason, it isn't because they value you as a frequent visitor.

It means they already knew that room 109 was planning an all night raging party and that room 107 is undergoing some pretty serious reconstruction. It also means the vending machines and all the safety lighting and munchy-needing party traffic are directly outside your door. It almost goes without saying that Big Bertha is taking dance lessons up in room 208. It most definitely means that the bathtub plugger-upper thingy is broken and you'll have to keep the water running constantly if you want to take a nice relaxing bath, which sorta ruins the spa-like atmosphere you're desperately trying to create. And it obviously means you'll be on the floor crying while searching for an outlet to plug in the teeny tiny little one cup coffee maker, and when you find it, it will be just about an inch too far away from actually making the necessary connection.

The good thing is that the black-out curtains worked really, really well. Or maybe it was the wine. Anyway, I slept great. There were 2 big beds, and with the exception of about 45 minutes, I had an entire queen-size all to myself. Somehow I managed to sleep more hours during the last 3 days than I did the entire month of May.