One of my favorite things about traveling is hotel
breakfast. I want two poached eggs, with buttered rye toast, some almost-burnt
bacon and fruit salad. I can usually get it, though I’ve only had one place in
Miami actually get that bacon to the mahogany and black goodness I enjoy when
my husband makes it at home. Once, I asked for extra crispy bacon and got extra
bacon. It is a struggle.
The Bacon Provider is not a breakfast lover. He wakes up with
his hair swirling around his head like he’s floating underwater, his face newly
sprouted with beardlyness, and requires about 40 minutes of bathroom-monopolizing
to become his tucked-in and tidy self. I wake up looking like a mess, too, but
I always look like a mess, so I can roll out of bed and put on pants and a bra
and look about as good as I do after a shower and blow-drying. When it’s cold I
like to think about wearing my bra over my shirt so I don’t have to take it off;
I can’t be the only woman who wants to do this. Sometimes I have to put a little
hotel hand-lotion in my hair; travel means a hotel gym, and the gym means too
many showers, and too many showers means big hair problems. But even that takes
only seconds. The Bacon Provider sits politely in the hotel restaurant, orders
toast or sometimes oatmeal.
When the food comes, it is always offered in reverse. There
has yet to be a waiter who thinks the eggs and undercooked bacon is for me, the
plain toast for him.
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| Our breakfasts |
I like hotel breakfasts too. It might be the best thing about travelling (which I don't really like all that much). At home, I eat cereal (which I love, and could, and at times do, eat for breakfast lunch and dinner). But when I'm at a hotel, I will eat bacon and eggs, or an omelet, or French toast, or a waffle for breakfast.
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