But dude, when you are greeted with "Bonjour" by a smiling, uniformed doorman who insists on carrying your luggage (in my case, a bottom-of-the-line Jansport backpack), there's not really any preparation for that. Before now, I was all "Hampton Inn, holla!"
I am in a hotel where they legitimately greet you with "bonjour" in the USA. They didn't even seem to care about my back sweat!
— Erin Etheridge (@fiercebeagle) July 26, 2012
"No, no," I felt compelled to say. "You must have me confused with someone else. I'm not a celebrity; I'm just an ordinary hot girl." (As you can see, pregnancy delusions are in full swing; last time, when I was pregnant with Ethan, I was certain if I just ran into John Krasinski while he was in town filming Leatherheads, he'd instantly fall for seven-months-pregnant me and I'd have to let him down gently, explaining I was already happily married.)
I had a little time to kill before check-in, so I walked to the nearby Washington monument...
...then relished a few hours in my room before the cocktails reception...
...and concluded that the hotel's signature scent must also include cutting-edge anti-nausea and relaxation ions, because I didn't feel even a little bit sick despite the fact that it was 400 degrees out.
I enjoyed some heavy hors d'ouevres and knocked back a few ice-cold Coca Cola Classics (living on the edge, obviously) at Lincoln restaurant and retired back to my room to discover that, though I'd been gone less than two hours, some French room fairy had accomplished what I now know to be called Turn-Down Service, which included fluffing my bed pillows, tidying up, and turning on some classical music before my return.
Though by evening I'd improved my faked air of prestige, smiling wanly at the doormen and replying with my best I-minored-in-French bon soir, I absolutely did not hesitate to stuff into my backpack the mini mayo, mustard, ketchup and hot sauce bottles that came with my (truly delectable) chicken BLT I ordered through room service.
Let me just say, I am so glad that the rule at those luxury hotels is whatever you can fit in your bag is complimentary, because those Egyptian cotton bedsheets totally rock.