I wonder if there's anything more sad than getting old and then moaning about the good old days? But here I am and here it goes. I miss those concierge-level room black and brown shoe polishers that plugged into the wall. I miss the two bars of soap in the room. I miss the wine opener that was normally in the desk drawer, and I miss the desk drawer too! I miss the envelopes and the writing paper that lived in that same drawer and the post cards showing the hotel on the front of each. I miss quiet concierge lounges with a guard at the door, human or card-slot. I miss the ability to write a letter to Marriott and then get a typed letter with a signed response from Mr. Marriott himself.
I guess what I miss most is the feeling that I am truly an honored guest, no matter how any nights I stay or how much I have paid.