Motel Life: Pumping Iron While You Iron

I’ve been traveling again. This week I was in Naples, Florida. Yes, it beats a stick in the eye and then some, but it was strictly a business trip and I wasn’t ensconced at the Ritz Carlton on the Gulf of Mexico. My accommodations were relatively modest; okay they were light years from plush carpets and thick bathrobes with hotel logos on them. I was holed up at the Best Western, a stone’s throw from the interstate where the towels are as thin as my hair and every blanket has a cigarette burn. Now Naples is, if nothing else, a wealthy retirement community. But the folks at Best Western, perhaps because of it’s proximity to the highway, don’t assume that its patrons are routinely listed on the annual Forbes 400 or, for that matter, are strictly on the up-and-up.
When I unpacked my suitcase and hung my suits and shirts I saw that I would need to do a little ironing. I slid open the mirrored closet door, which was partially jammed with what I took to be the remnant of a Snicker’s bar, and searched for the iron and ironing board. It turned out to be a set. The iron was tethered to the board with a plastic wrapped metal coil. My first reaction was embarrassment. Let me explain. Earlier in the evening I had picked up three gentlemen from Australia. Nigel was from New Zealand to be exact. In the short time I spent with him, I’m quite certain he would insist on the distinction. Looking at my iron/ironing board contraption, I could not help wondering whether our prospective business partners, all of whom turned out to be very bright and witty, would think that America must be a nation of thieves. Why else would the hotel chain find it necessary to secure their irons?
Then I had another thought that bothered me even more. I wondered if the men from down under might be thinking we are also stupid thieving Americans in the bargain. Neither the TV nor the microwave was tethered. I know because my curiosity got the better of me. I checked. Perhaps you’re thinking: “Seriously Len, how could a hotel guest carry such large objects through the lobby unnoticed? Irons can be hidden in suitcases after all.” All I can say is, if you don’t believe it would be easy to distract a motel desk clerk long enough to empty your room and the so-called lobby furniture too, you probably don't stay in motels very often.
When I went to actually use the iron I realized I might have overlooked an entirely different explanation for the tightly wrapped coil connection. I soon discovered while ironing my shirts and pants that moving the iron back and forth required a good deal more effort to stretch the coiled wire than one might expect. I not only got the wrinkles out of my clothing, I got a biceps and pecs workout that rivaled an hour at Gold’s Gym. That was all well and good but I never slept a wink after that, worrying that the motel might charge extra for using its workout equipment.
Another curious thing about staying in today’s version of the roadside inn is the breakfasts they serve. Most of these places offer breakfast for free. The breakfast area is always busy. Yet, no one ever checks for a room key to be sure the diners are paying guests. I suppose the possibility that thieving Americans might pilfer Cheerios and a banana hasn’t occurred to the motel security staff yet. Invariably breakfast includes coffee and juice, what appears to be day old bread for toast, cereal and the most hideous looking Danish I have ever seen.
Some motels throw in hot items as well. They have do-it-yourself waffles, scrambled eggs the shape and color of a half-moon and frisbee like sausage patties. Since new management joined our company, I’ve stayed at several Best Westerns. I’ve noticed that in addition to the items already mentioned, their specialty seems to be hard boiled eggs. Trust me: a protein rich hard boiled egg and a cup of coffee after pumping the iron is almost appetizing. If only they served beer for breakfast too.

Coyright 2010 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.

Breakfast of Champions

Breakfast is one of my favorite meals. Actually all meals are favorites for me which explains why I’m currently enduring the rigors of the South Beach diet. But I do enjoy a good breakfast. Whether its eggs and grits, pancakes, French toast or Cheerios and bananas, I’m happy. Add a cup of hot coffee and my day is off to an excellent start. Sometimes I’ll drink a glass of water too. And orange juice with lots of pulp is always a welcome treat.
One thing I have never had with breakfast though is an alcoholic beverage. Oops, check that. I did have a sazerac with eggs Benedict at Brennan’s in New Orleans once. Very classy. I felt urbane that entire morning, a feeling that few natives of Newark, New Jersey are acquainted with. Other than that I’ve limited my alcohol consumption to meals served later in the day.
To be honest it never occurred to me that a cocktail or even a beer might enhance my breakfast meal. That is until last week. I was strolling down to my gate at Nashville International Airport when a chalkboard sign caught my eye. One of the taverns in Terminal C had a neatly printed sign that read, “Now serving breakfast along with your favorite beer and cocktails.” I’ll admit it the sign shook me up. A cocktail with breakfast? Who would have thought? My shock quickly gave way to panic. Isn’t it hard enough to select an appropriate wine with dinner? Just when I finally have the courage to open a bottle of Zinfandel to accompany my wife’s meatloaf, I have a whole new set of rules to learn. Now I have to figure out which beer goes with breakfast?
Consider this: Which cocktail would you prefer with your breakfast? I’m getting a hangover just thinking about it. As usual, I’m probably getting carried away. Maybe it’s not that hard. After all, a bottle of Corona should be a natural with a breakfast burrito, right? And an orange blossom might be a good match with cherry pancakes. I wonder if Cracker Barrel will start serving liquor. What about eggs and grits though? Could I get away with a Jack Daniels served neat if the eggs are prepared over easy? But what do I do if I want scrambled eggs? Maybe there’s an urbane reader (with or without a zazerac) out there that can offer a suggestion on that.
Now before you start to think I’ve led a completely sheltered life or that I am close-minded when it comes to alcohol for breakfast, I am vaguely aware that drinks like the Bloody Mary and Mimosa have long been popular breakfast choices. There are some who claim that originally, the cocktail was a breakfast drink, due in part to the belief that alcoholic beverages were perhaps safer than drinking water was centuries ago. Considering how many of us choose to drink bottled water instead of tap, maybe breweries and distillers should be marketing their beverages as healthy breakfast alternatives.
In spite of the time honored history of a morning eye-opener, I doubt that most of us are starting our day with a jigger of something 80 proof though. I do know that Terminal C had a line for coffee. Not so for the bar next door. Yet, that little sign I saw at the airport made it seem so natural, as if what most of us are doing at home every morning is now also available at the airport. Maybe a good stiff drink is a marvelous way to start the day. Is it possible that a morning martini might improve my performance at a staff meeting? Would a drink be a suitable substitute for watching the tube last night instead of reviewing my notes? I don’t know about you but in my experience alcohol tends to slow me down. I have a drink in the evening because I’m done negotiating, selling and writing. My editor kind of insists on that last one.
Times are tough right now. We’ll all have to make sacrifices and we’ll be asked to work harder than ever. Under the circumstances, I am tempted to put some Scotch in my cornflakes. But the airlines don’t serve cereal and I just might want a chaser.



Copyright 2008 Len Serafino. All rights reserved