Pay By The Hour Hotel

pay by the hour hotel
  • A code word representing the letter H, used in radio communication
  • a building where travelers can pay for lodging and meals and other services
  • In French contexts an hotel particulier is an urban "private house" of a grand sort. Whereas an ordinary maison was built as part of a row, sharing party walls with the houses on either side and directly fronting on a street, an hotel particulier was often free-standing, and by the eighteenth
  • An establishment providing accommodations, meals, and other services for travelers and tourists
  • A hotel is an establishment that provides paid lodging on a short-term basis. The provision of basic accommodation, in times past, consisting only of a room with a bed, a cupboard, a small table and a washstand has largely been replaced by rooms with modern facilities, including en-suite
  • A period of time equal to a twenty-fourth part of a day and night and divided into 60 minutes
  • A less definite period of time
  • The distance traveled in one hour
  • a period of time equal to 1/24th of a day; "the job will take more than an hour"
  • a special and memorable period; "it was their finest hour"
  • clock time; "the hour is getting late"
  • The money paid to someone for regular work
  • wage: something that remunerates; "wages were paid by check"; "he wasted his pay on drink"; "they saved a quarter of all their earnings"
  • give: convey, as of a compliment, regards, attention, etc.; bestow; "Don't pay him any mind"; "give the orders"; "Give him my best regards"; "pay attention"
  • give money, usually in exchange for goods or services; "I paid four dollars for this sandwich"; "Pay the waitress, please"

The Antlers, Absolutely Modern
The Antlers, Absolutely Modern
For our 28th anniversary, we decided to break the trip from Portland to our place in Idaho (9 hours, give or take, less if you're the one who gets to sleep) by stopping at Baker City in far eastern Oregon; booking a suite at the magnificent 1889 Geiser Grand Hotel; enjoying a fine dinner at the hotel; and taking a carriage ride through Baker City's quiet neighborhoods as dusk turned to evening. Our stay was everything we'd hoped for, and more. Thank you, Frank! Baker City boomed at the end of the 19th century and the early 20th. A gold rush in the Blue Mountains (seen here in the background), farming and ranching all contributed to Baker City's prosperity. Then the town entered into a profound economic decline. Today, Baker City's again a thriving regional business center. Isolated as they are from cities in Oregon and Idaho, people in and around Baker City come to Baker City's downtown to shop. Consequently, there's a welcome variety of merchants, something you don't find in small towns closer to cities such as Portland. Last but not least, as far as I could tell, the Big Box retailers (you know who you are) have passed Baker City by in their relentless quest to suck the life out of small-town America's historic downtowns. A hex and a pox on all of you! What does that mean for the traveler? Well, for anyone who's interested in period architecture and/or Small-Town America, the downtown has an abundance of virtually pristine period storefronts of brick, stone, or brick and stone. There are also a few examples of 20's brick-and-terra-cotta architecture, and even an Art Deco high rise, probably commercial construction's final grand gesture as prosperity trickled away. With a few exceptions that aren't nearly as bad as they could be, the storefronts on the High Street escaped the weird and disfiguring facelifts that were so popular in the middle decades of the last century. The central business district is unusual also in that there are relatively few vacant lots, the bane of most "old towns." The large brick building that dominates this photo through a gap in our suite's curtains is The Antlers. Long abandoned, the former hotel still bears its name proudly and in a lovely period font. Frankly, "The Antlers" is such a perfect name for a western hotel that, if it didn't already exist, someone would have to invent it. I'd hoped our traveling companion, Dot the Cat, would take to the suite at the Geiser Grand like Eloise at The Plaza, but it just didn't happen. I can't say Dot the Cat actively disliked her stay at the Geiser Grand but, unlike our late cat Lucy, Dot wasn't able to sack out for the duration on one of the hotel's comfy chairs after doing a thorough perimeter check (it was a always kick watching butch old Lucy march methodically around the room until she was satisfied it was clear) and having a snack. Sure, Dot enjoyed lolling about in the sunshine on the the carpet during the late afternoon and, busybody that she is, Dot was fascinated by everything - animal, human and mechanical - she saw through this window. To her credit, Dot didn't have a crying jag while we were out, or order room service or pay-per-view. I think the reason Dot couldn't settle down was she sensed the suite's previous canine and feline occupants in some form of cat Technicolor I'm very glad I don't have. I bet Dot stayed up most of the night pacing the room so she wouldn't be caught sleeping if that terrifying Malamute or difficult Siamese who overnighted there last month decided to make a sudden return.
Day 81/365: Our Hotel Room
Day 81/365: Our Hotel Room
Today was dad's business meeting. This is the only picture we have of today, because we spent the day on the road. His meeting was 3 hours by car from our hotel. We learned to hate our Route 66 MINI GPS. It went completely nuts!! Yesterday it said the best route was to first go East to Brescia and then down South to our destination. Today it woke up temperamental and insisted we go first West to Milan and then head down South. Okay... I guess... But it's not one of those GPS that reads traffic information, you know? As we were getting on the A4 highway (Milan-Brescia-Venice) it suddenly changed its mind and said that we should take the Eastbound ramp (towards Venice, that is towards Brescia, as initially planned). We did so. During the next two hours the stupid gadget insisted that we take every single possible exit and go back West to Milan. We learned to ignore it as we watched the ETA rise and rise to way past the meeting time. Is Milan paying Route 66 to bring people there or what?? After the last exit we ignored, the stupid thing recalculated for the n-th time and suddenly the ETA dropped from 11.30 to 9.30!! Hooray for Route 66's path search algorithm!! I mean what kind of junk is this?? We did a short stretch on the A1 and, again, when we were on the ramp to the road that would lead us directly to our final destination, it tried to misguide us again!! Luckily there was a clear sign stating our destination (not all that many signs in Italy's roads, you know), and by now the GPS's word had no weight whatsoever on our decisions. In the return trip, all seemed to go well, but we kind of forgot to pay more attention. We should have taken only a short stretch of the A1 and then the road to Brescia, but forgot about that. The devlisih device finally tricked us into getting its way. Before we knew it we were entering Milan!!!! Grrrrr! So what was Milan like? Well, now we call traffic jams "milanesas", so you get the idea... thank goodness we didn't pass via Milan on the way to the meeting, or we would have never made it on time!

pay by the hour hotel
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