The perfect room, I once wrote, is something to fantasize about during a less than perfect travel day. The definition depends on your needs, tastes and how much you're prepared to spend.
My perfect room has a big, comfortable bed, preferably without 17 pillows, most of which I dutifully pile up in a corner only to have the maid dutifully put them all back next day.
It is free of street noise and has heavy drapes to block out light. There's an armchair, preferably a recliner, and lamps with bulbs bright enough for reading. And the chair should be located so I can watch television. (Why is it so many TVs can only be comfortably watched from bed?)
The TV should offer free movie channels. It should be easily operated with one remote controller, not two, preferably one whose numbers and numerals haven't worn off and whose batteries are fresh.
Operating the shower should not require an engineering degree. The curtain rod must be screwed into the walls, not held on with suction cups. (I've never forgotten the time a rod I used to steady myself getting out of a tub at a Mexican resort gave way, pitching me forward against the sink).
Ideally, all this won't cost more than $100 a night, but I'm prepared to admit that is not a terribly realistic, particularly in big cities.
What's made my quest for the perfect room more difficult is technology. Hi-tech and I don't get along. Never have. Probably never will. I was reminded of that a couple of times this year.
First came a stopover in Quebec City at a hotel provided by the trip sponsor, one much grander than anything I'd be able to afford on my own. The room was huge and well-outfitted, with a mattress so welcoming I wished I could have shipped it home.
But the shower had these tiny holes in the walls, and I wasn't quite sure just what comes out of them. Also intriguing was a button marked "wrinkle free." Would it make me look younger? Disguise the dark circles? I consulted the hotel directory. There were several pages of photos and descriptions of various bathroom styles. None, unfortunately, matched mine.
"Wrinkle free," I later learned, was for steaming clothing to freshen it up, not for giving guests a quick facelift.
It could have been worse. A colleague told me her room had a huge tub bedecked with so many strange dials, levers, knobs and buttons she was afraid to touch all but the most obvious ones.
Hi-tech confounded me at another chain hotel. The TV came with two types of remote control units and no instructions on how to use them. I had to call the front desk for help.
The closest I've come to the perfect room lately was in Sudbury, Ont. at a Hampton Inn. I shouldn't have been surprised. I've twice used a Hampton near Vancouver Airport that met all my criteria. The Sudbury one also came with some "free" inclusions, including a hot breakfast, a business centre offering free e-mail access, and free coffee and tea in the lobby.
Dave Hunter, who writes Along the I-75, has an eye for good hotels. The latest edition of this excellent guidebook mentions Drury Hotels, which Dave calls "the best lodging secret" on I-75.
Drury's free extras include free WiFi, local and long-distance phone calls (one hour per night per stay) and a chef-cooked breakfast. The one Dave used in Ohio also provided a free evening meal and free soft drinks. See druryhotels.com.
Way to go, Dave. You've set the bar for the perfect room even higher.
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