31 - Fire, Water and a bloody fall

CLARIDGES, THE GRITTI and RAFFLES

Claridge's grand stairway seen from the main lobby (photo by Luxist)

Sometimes unrehearsed hotel dramas can be something of a treat.  At least they can leave a more special memory than expected.

On my first ever night at Claridge’s in London I was awakened from a deep sleep at 3 a.m. by ear-shattering sirens.  It was the hotel’s major fire alarm.  I put on a robe, and made my way towards the hotel's grandiose stairway. 

Seen from Brook Street (Photo by Vogue)

I was suddenly surrounded by a glamorous array of characters straight out of Tattler’s party pages. My memory may exaggerate a tad, but I remember all the ladies being clad in the most stunning night attire I had ever seen. 

No one seemed vaguely worried.  Despite the hour, we all greeted the announcement of a false alarm with good cheer and much camaraderie.  It turned out there had been a monthly practice drill the previous afternoon, and someone had forgotten to deprogram the alarm.

* * * * *

High tide flooding in St. Mark's Square (Guardian photo)

Gianni in a calmer moment

My first stay at the Gritti in Venice coincided with one of the city’s periodic floods, with canal waters not only flooding the piazza and surrounding streets, but gushing through the hotel’s sumptuous marble lobby as well.   

Coming down in the afternoon, I was met with knee-deep water on the ground floor and an agitated concierge, dressed in what looked like fishing boots over his morning suit:  “Back.  Back to your room,” he ordered.  “You’ll be better there.”  

Gianni, who was usually the essence of gentleness, had gone into his take-charge mode.  Barking out orders, he left no room for negotiations.  I really wanted to examine the flooding, but didn't dare disobey, and I returned docilely to my room.

It was a memorable environment for a first introduction to Venice's unique "aqua alta," the city's autumnal high tide phenomenon.
 

* * * * *

Raffles, summer of 2006

My most dramatic hotel incident occurred during a stay at the mythical Raffles, creator of the Singapore Sling, and once home-away-from-home to Rudyard Kipling and Somerset Maugham.  On my first evening, returning from a nearby movie house, I inexplicably took a nasty, headfirst fall onto the sidewalk.

Raffles doorman who escorted me into the emergency room

Seriously bruised and bloodied, glasses smashed and trousers torn, aided by passersby, I stumbled back to Raffles in a decidedly inelegant state.  Worse still, without my glasses, I was nearly blind.

Tom Toh in the presidential suite

 Tom Toh,  one of the junior directors whom I knew quite well, was working late.  He joined the concierge who had already rushed to my aid.  I was whisked in the hotel limousine to a nearby hospital, escorted into the emergency ward by chauffeur and the hotel doorman in full Raffles regalia (see above photo).  I have rarely, if ever, felt so important.

Over the next days I recuperated from what turned out to be only superficial injuries, supremely pampered by a staff attending to my every need.   If I had to fall, I couldn’t have done it in a better place.  I truly felt like the hotel’s most important guest.

Self-portrait, Singapore 2006

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

Next Friday:  "Margaret at Le Cirque"

  [Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

Claridge's was also featured in blog No. 16, "A Momentous Long-distance Telephone Call" ;  the Gritti in No. 17, "Celebrating the Holidays Away from Home", No. 10, "Danny the Night Concierge,"  and "Looking Back At Venice ... and Paul Newman"  (to access, click on above titles).