The Rockwood Files: My night with a unicorn

By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3

It has never happened before and will probably never happen again. But it happened once, and it was thrilling.

Before I tell you what it was, let me preface this by saying that I’m one of those people who is easily delighted by the little things. An ice-cold Dr. Pepper. Clean sheets day. Three green lights in a row. And my kids grew up watching me celebrate when pulling into the ideal parking space. “Rock star parking!” I’d say as we pulled into a front-row spot at a busy store.

But what happened two days ago feels like a fantasy unicorn experience. I drove my mom to see her oncologist in a city three hours away, where the traffic was intense, and the temperature was a boiling 99 degrees. With multiple medical appointments to attend, we needed two days to see doctors and take tests, so Tom arranged a hotel room for Mom and me to stay overnight. We’d stayed in other locations of the same hotel chain many times in the past.

As we checked in, the front desk clerk mentioned that the hotel had opened only six days earlier. “Really?” I said. “You haven’t even been open for a week yet?”

“That’s right,” she answered. “It’ll be a week tomorrow.”

I looked around at the bright, airy lobby with its huge, spotless windows and breathed in the smell of fresh paint and new carpet. “Oh, this is good,” I mused as we wheeled our overnight bags down the hall.

But the real excitement washed over me when I opened the door to Room 114 and realized we were the first people to stay there – ever. I got a lovely little “joy jolt” as we admired the new room untouched by last week’s travelers. It felt like opening a new can of Pringles and peeling off the silver seal on top.

I texted Tom and told him he’d booked the perfect room for Mom and me. “BRAND NEW,” I added for all-caps emphasis, and then happily flopped down on the bed – the first flop of thousands of future flops to come.

As a certified homebody, traveling feels adventurous but not always comfortable. I’d prefer my own bed and bathroom over even the fanciest of fancy hotels. I have friends who think this is a weird quirk of mine. But when you’ve spent years creating your own little cocoon of comfort, why would you want to leave it?

When I do travel, I have a “homebody coping kit” to ease my transition into non-cocoon settings. I’m that lady who packs a roll of my preferred toilet paper into the luggage. I bring my own pillow and favorite throw blanket. Sometimes I put a box of Kleenex in my tote bag because hotels usually have the scratchy stuff that will take a layer of skin off your nose. And if I’m staying for more than one night, I pack a pump bottle of scented hand soap, so I won’t have to use the matchbox-sized soap by the hotel sink that then sits in a pool of its own milky mess. If all this makes me weird, so be it. At least I’m a comfortable weirdo.

But during this unicorn of hotel experiences, it felt like this room had been dropped out of the sky just for me – hermetically sealed for my protection. No matter how clean a hotel might seem, it’s hard to forget that thousands of people have used it before you – the towels, the sheets, the toilet, the tub. Whether the hotel is upscale or run-of-the-mill regular, there’s a certain inescapable “ick factor.” (And once you’ve seen a TV journalist shine a black light around a dark hotel room, you really can’t forget it, no matter how hard you try.)

But there wasn’t an ounce of ick in our overnight stay. I practically skipped down the hall to the ice machine. I was a kid on Christmas morning who didn’t have to worry about the shower curtain touching my wet skin.

The next morning, Mom and I sat on new furniture in the new lobby and sipped orange juice during our complimentary breakfast. We were the queens of Room 114. I was almost sad to leave when it was time to check out – but not too sad. Because unicorns are magical, as are brand new hotel rooms, but home is the best.

Home will always be my favorite.

Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her book is available on Amazon.