This year, though, I took a chance with a Guest House, which is a building made up of apartments that act as a time share. There are no clerks or tenants, no bell people, or on-location crews. There's just you, the cell phone, a text message, a code, and then access to a suite. I didn't know what to expect, but when I walked in I saw that my apartment could host any number of people for an evening. I have a full kitchen, two beds, a living room, and a full walk in shower.
The best part of the location, however, is the fact that it came with an actual record player that works: I've been listening to Pat Benatar, Blood Sweat and Tears, 38 Special, and even Isaac Hayes. The location is equipped, too, with two televisions and a barrel of monkeys (the game I used to play as a kid). The cost of one night, though, is 1/2 of what one would get for a hotel downtown (and guess what, I'm a block from all the more expensive hotels).
In the kitchen were recipes, as well, for cooking dinner with the fresh food in the fridge.
All it takes is an imaginative, alternative option to the hotel empire, and suddenly one gets competitive options. It is the Uber of the taxi world, but guess houses are overnight sleeping accommodations. Boom. I love it.
And the record player! Wusah!
I have a real quick presentation in the morning and then must fly out for another in Connecticut. Quick stay, indeed, which is too bad because I really scored this year with the SoBro. I got out for barbecue, too, but didn't find a joint nearly as good as any of those we ate at in Atlanta a couple weeks ago. Georgia does it up Crandall style.
Oh, snap. I need to present. Yikes.