My parents ran this little family hotel until I was seven.
There were no other employees, just the two of them.
It was an immense playground for me.
I spent my time wandering the always-empty rooms.
A few years and adventures later, we were struggling to find affordable housing,
and we lived in a single hotel room.
Not being able to invite my friends over,
having dinner on the bed,
walking quickly and shyly down the corridor to the toilets and showers.
My first period stained hotel sheets.
Adult me matching with a hot stranger on an app,
telling him my secret fantasy to meet up in a hotel bar,
finishing the evening in a room.
Now hotel rooms are my favorite workplace.
I am a fleeting guest.
I stay only an hour,
a night,
sometimes more,
but never forever.
Crisp white sheets,
clean and dry towels,
tiny towels!
Sample soaps,
spacious bathrooms,
windows with a view.
I love how bare of personality they are.
Everything is possible.
You make of the energy of the room what you will.
To changing lives between the floors.
To swimming diagonally in the Château Laurier pool because I was the only one there and because I could.
To playing with dinosaurs in them.
To hosting my now-illegal activities.
To knowing which ones are easy access.
To being able to give a full review to your friends on the best hotel bars.
Hotel rooms are intertwined in my life's path.
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