Skip to main content

IHG loves me

I left Saugatuck on a Wednesday afternoon to drive the 197 miles to Detroit to see my son Michael. I stayed at the Crowne Plaza - formerly the Ponchatrain - and was greeted warmly by the door man and valet. I was then greeted by the nicest bell hop ever who put my luggage on one of those trolley thingys and insisted on pushing it and me (in my wheelchair) to check in. Where a very nice clerk congratulated me on being and IHG Platinum member and then gave me a little gift bag that contained a chilled bottle of water, and apple and a bag of trail mix. As the bell hop was bringing me to my room he remarked, "you musta stayed in a lot of hotels to get the Platinum level."

And yes, I have. In fact, this Crowne Plaza would be my first stop on a whirlwind tour to see the the three not-so-little Piggins.

I drove 283 miles to Chicago the next day, Thursday, to deliver some things to Matthew who would be moving into a new apartment over the weekend. I would also be helping Delaney move out of her Chicago apartment

I checked in to the Holiday Inn Express in Evanston where the desk clerk welcomed me as an "IHG Platinum member" and gave me a gift bag with a bottle water and granola bar. Again, a nice bell hop helped me up to my room and he too commented on the fact that I must have stayed in a lot of IHG hotels.

In fact, I have. The stays and earned-points started to accumulate when Michael's college search began in 2007 and we stayed at the Holiday Inn Express in Crawfordsville, Indiana, home of Wabash College.

On Friday, Delaney and I were on the road to St. Louis to move her in to her duplex to start her junior year. The drive to St. Louis from Chicago totaled 303 miles.

I checked in to the Holiday Inn Express on Route 66 where I was once again greeted warmly by a desk clerk who thanked me for being a platinum IHG member ... you know what happened next. 

This particular excursion was an anomaly - I don't normally stay in three different hotels in five days. And I don't usually drive over 800 miles in one weekend while staying in three different hotels over five days. And I don't usually help move (to some degree or another) all three children in one weekend while driving 800 miles and staying in three different hotels in five days. And did I mention that it was August and hot and humid in all three cities and all five days?

I am grateful for many things over these five days and 800 miles;

1.   My spouse and his Subaru Outback with it's great cruise control that made driving 800 miles less of a chore and its plentitude of space for a whole lot of 'stuff';
2. The three not so little Piggins that still love to have their mom 'help';
3.  The genuinely helpful and kind people I met at all three hotels - I never got the sense that they were 'just doing their job' or (worse!) I was putting them out when they were doing a little more than required (the bell hop in Detroit was the epitome in customer service!);
4.  For the GPS that helped me figure out the miles traveled and especially the calculator that helped me total them;
5.   For air conditioning and chilled water!!

My glass is overflowing!

Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Ten Year

When I was in junior high school, I staged a sit-in and learned about 'ten year'. This will come as a total surprise to most of you readers - I was not a perfectly well behaved child. I know, I know - you're shocked, amazed, in wonder how I could have turned out to be so well-behaved despite the oats sown in my youth.  And the sit-in is a perfect example of how I marched to the beat of my own drummer. Miss Brown was an English teacher - and not a very popular one. She would invoke the yardstick on wayward student's hands and scowl the moment we walked into the classroom. We weren't very kind to Miss Brown but then she wasn't very kind to us, either. Personally, the hardest part of having Miss Brown as an English teacher is that she nearly ruined my love of my favorite topic in school. It was the year we were to learn grammar (have I ever mentioned that as a writer I detest grammar?). I think some new way of teaching English was introduced and in all l...

Time Keeps on Ticking, Ticking Into the Future

Who does that song? The one with the lyrics - "Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking into the future"? It's the song that continues to play in mind today. I've attended the graduation open house of my son Matthew's dearest friend, Kyle, today. While there I saw the elementary school principal, a teacher or two and a boatload of friends. It made me realize that no matter how hard I try to maintain the status quo ~ life continues. Not only can I vividly recall my children as young children, I can recall many of their friends. It's  bittersweet this time passage thing because we, as parents and adults, can recall these graduating 'children' as children. At this open house, my daughter's first grade teacher recalled Delaney as a six year old lover of books and told tales out of school that brought back the memories of my daughter at that time in her life. Shortly after that conversation,  I watched her rehearsal for the concert/performance/f...

holding on for dear life

  Tuesday was cool, the morning especially. And while working at the Book Nook I saw people dressed for two seasons -summer and fall. Lots of plaids, flannel and boots or booties worn by customers that I assumed were anxious for fall. Not me. I'm holding on to summer for dear life. I wore a sleeveless dress, sandals and a cotton sweater. I mean here in Michigan we will be donning those fall duds and not showing skin again for at least eight months. And while I'm not good at a math, I know that eight months is most of the year. According to my calculator that's 66 percent of the year (66.666667 to be exact - my math 094 professor at MSU would be impressed that I knew that if I'd done it myself. But I'm smart enough to use a calculator to come up with that - like I used to tell her every class "we don't need to know how to do that, we can just use a calculator". Pretty sure I wasn't her favorite).  Boy did I digress with that walk down memory lane. A...