8 - A Date With Destiny

THE EXCELSIOR HOTEL, Florence circa 1979

Bellboy --watercolor by Chas-Laborde

      If I have any aptitude for hotel bargaining, it came about strictly by accident.   Like most people, it had never occurred to me that hotel rooms were negotiable.

What I discovered in Florence somewhat changed my life.   It opened up a whole new world of luxury hotel possibilities.

I had reserved what I thought to be a medium range boutique hotel, but upon arrival, I realized I had managed a major screw-up.  The hotel was too nice, too expensive, and fully booked with no reservation in my name.  When telephoning, the bookmark had undoubtedly slipped a line or two in my Michelin guide book, and I had no doubt reserved at another hotel (who knows which one) without realizing my error.

The reception staff was understanding and helpful, but could only offer to call elsewhere for me.   When they understood the modest price I had expected to pay, it became increasingly evident (and embarrassing) that the error had been mine.  A nearby pensione was located which --though indeed cheap-- was pretty elementary in comfort.

Florence, the Arno River (photo google archives)

I particularly remember some sort of rudimentary shower in the corner of the room with no curtain, as well as a dead roach (though hardly the first I had encountered, growing up in the South). 

As I had allotted two nights to Florence before leaving for Rome, I decided that drastic measures were needed, and I headed for the Hotel Excelsior, the grandest of the Italian CIGA hotels of the day, a category I would never have considered under normal circumstances.

I had first bargained with myself, deciding to brave that first night at the undesirable pensione, and to compensate with a taste of unaccustomed luxury the subsequent day.  As soon as I entered the Excelsior’s supremely baroque foyer, I was ready to make whatever sacrifice might prove necessary.

Facade of the Excelsior

I asked  the rate for a single room.  The distinguished dirretore responded with a figure which must have seemed about as high as I could  have ever feared. In total innocence I asked if there were not something less expensive.   I had heard of small rooms for domestic staff which the Parisian palaces sometimes offered.

To my surprise, the gentleman took a piece of paper and wrote down another figure, significantly less than the first one.  A fast learner, I responded by asking if there were not perhaps an even better price.   When the paper was returned to me with a good 50% off the original tariff, I felt as though swept up in a surrealist dream.   

 I couldn’t resist asking if there were not even less expensive quarters available.

The manager replied with the warmest, friendliest smile.  No, this was indeed his best price.  I told him I was delighted with our arrangement, and would arrive in the early morning of the following day.

The Starwood Excelsior lobby today, much as I remember it (photo google)

-o-


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Next Friday:  Trials of a Tailor, the Hong Kong Shangri-la