Hotel Faded Rose

A little over 15 years ago, my Hot Shot Husband and I stood in a park pavilion on a rainy Saturday, read some really spiffy poetry, exchanged silver rings and vowed before God, our son, our parents, our siblings, two friends and a Unitarian minister that we would love and care for each other for the rest of our lives.

Then we went to his mother's house for a party, ate wedding cake that my mother had made and decorated to match my dress, then drove off for a long weekend in New Orleans.

It was beautiful. Then we came home early from New Orleans because we missed our little boy.

Fifteen years later, we celebrated by leaving our two children, three dogs, four chickens and house in the care of my mother-in-law and drove for a few hours to catch some off-season action in a very seasonal town.

Our first instinct was to drive to a quaint little inn on a leafy Vermont hillside. Then we remembered that we've got "quaint" and "leafy" seeping from every pore and orafice of our lives. We decided to go someplace with "stores" and "restaurants."

We stayed at a "rare surviving High Victorian Inn constructed in 1877."

Please, please, do yourselves a favor and click on the "movies" section on that site and view the guestrooms movie. Be warned that there is sound. Glorious, glorious sound.

As the movie will tell you, the hotel is a vestige of the days when wealthy, corsetted and begartered ladies and gentlemen travelled to Saratoga Springs to drink, gamble and "take the cure," which included bathing in and drinking the fresh springwater.

Now, the city is best known for its horse races, performing arts center, ballet, college and blue-bottled water.

And it should be known for the Adelphi Hotel. I captured some shots with my camera phone, because I really thought that a milestone trip like this would be more enjoyable if I left my camera at home on the kitchen table.

This is the main staircase. Below, you see the lobby, which is staffed by inky-haired college students who seem fit to do the Time Warp at a moment's notice. The lobby also holds more setees than I could count using both hands, and a lounge/bar that was (quite sadly) closed for the season.

The walls are positively encrusted with old portraits and paintings of the variety that you can always find in second-rate antique shops and first-rate thrift stores. That may well be your Gramma in that second photo from the top of the staircase.

But don't even think about going upstairs. That's for guests only. Also, the Tim Burtonesque font shows a real commitment to the creepy hospitality theme.

Once upstairs, my Hot Shot Husband made time with a lovely lady he met in the hallway.

Then he developed a case of the vapors in the sitting room.

God - where did they find all these sofas?

But how was the room?

Victorianish!

With a sitting room and - you guessed it - more settees. There were three of them sumbitches in there - three. What kind of freaks did they think we were?

And, as the iMovie promised, the room was replete with "bathroom amenities."

R Kelly - is that you in there?

No. It's just a couple light sweaters.

More Edward Scissorfont. And sure, you can go either direction to get out, but you'll end up right back in front of this sign.

Or maybe you'll end up in a bar with a circus theme.

Maybe you'll order a chocolatini. (Tip: There's enough left in that shaker to fill the glass again.)

And maybe you'll go back the next night.

We took our own cure, so to speak.

In addition to indulging at the circus bar, we also went to a serious Irish pub. It was so serious that when HSH ventured into the back looking for the men's room, he stumbled into a full-on, Lord of the Dance style troupe rehearsing. Or so he says.

Then we dined at a wine bar where, I am embarrassed to say, I honestly did not understand the menu. There was a tapas option. There were different prices. There were $8 glasses of wine. The wait staff was needlessly intimidating.

"Tell you what, Hayseed. Why don't you just drop the contents of your wallet on the table and walk out and we can all forget that you were ever here."

We also visited a nifty exhibit at the college art museum and bought some nifty clothes. And because we missed our children, we bought them some stuff, too.

It was a lovely trip.

And did I mention that my Hot Shot Husband asked me to marry him?

He did.

He got right down on his knee, put an honest-to-goodness diamond ring on my finger and asked me to marry him next autumn with a ceremony and a reception and invitations and dancing and all that other frivolous stuff we pared away from our first wedding in favor of the stuff that really mattered. And that we could afford.

You're all invited.

Yes, it was a wonderful trip. And the morning before we checked out, we sat in the lounge area eating the continental breakfast and eavesdropping on the only other couple sitting in the lounge.

They were recalling to each other the saga of two friends, both passed away years before. He had been a rake and a womanizer. She had been a suffering saint. He left her. He returned. They lived a long life together. His sister's husband had left her, too. She had expected him to return, as her brother had done to his wife. He didn't. He and his mistress died in an accident.

"It's interesting what sex does to people," the wife said.

"It's like the old saying," her husband added. "A stiff penis is ----"

And just then another person entered the lounge area, coughed and made me miss the most important part of the conversation.

I may never know.

Comments

[peripateticpolarbear]

Congratulations!

[stepblog]

Sounds perfecto. Happy anniversary Bettie and HSH.

[Elizabeth]

What a lovely trip! And how sweet that your husband asked you to marry him again.

My favorite words from this post? "Begartered", and "Edward ScissorFont". Excellent.