A good number of people I know have stayed 5-star at some point in their lives, Even if only in a very poor country, where 5-star can be had for 2-star prices. I hadn’t even done that. Every now and then I stay in a reasonable hotel, especially when I know the place I’m going to is going be what I’d term a “less than a day” city. Warsaw, where I am as I type this, is one of those cities. To its credit, they’ve done an extraordinary job of rebuilding the old town, but it doesn’t help when the weather is awful.
Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I only gave myself a day here, and when I saw a 5-star hotel pop up in the search for £60 a night, I thought, what the hey.
The room was massive, almost like a suite. Separate bedroom, huge bed, kitchen, massive bathroom, massive shower, spa bath, not to mention all kinds of silly things I hadn’t seen before, like a TV screen in the bathroom, a pull out clothes line, the obligatory dressing gown, digitally controlled shower temperature. I could go on. It was all a bit much for this 28-year old to take in. I had a sickening feeling that I’d overdone it a bit, and that maybe I’d missed a digit on the price when I booked.
On top of all that, there was a German beauty contest in town, and every single contestant was staying at this Hotel, so every step into the lift required awkwardly squeezing amongst a hoard of scantily clad “Miss Eastern Europe” hopefuls. I found a picture of them here. Breakfast time was extraordinarily uncomfortable, as you’d expect being the only Male in the room, with “up” as the only “safe” direction to look.
Anyway I’ve gone off topic again! The highlight of this experience was my return to the airport on Sunday. I asked the concierge which bus would be best to catch to the airport. Why not take our complimentary airport transfer service, Sir? He responded. Err, I replied. When does that leave? I asked. Whenever you’d like it to, Sir, he said. That’s about the silliest I’ve felt in a while, but all this feeling silly was only just getting started.
I was loaded into a brand new unmarked black Mercedes with leather and tortoiseshell interior, with a driver wearing a suit, and speaking exceptional English. As we set off he asked: “Is the temperature OK” Yeap, I awkwardly responded. “Is the music OK?” At that point I hadn’t actually noticed the pleasant piano solo playing over the brand new Merc’s exceptional sound system. As we approached the airport, he asked “May I ask which Airline you are flying today”. Oh dear, this is the bit where I have to admit that I’m not a high flying businessman, and that I’m actually flying Wizz Air. “Wizz Air” I mumbled. “Oh”. The driver uncomfortably uttered whilst quickly bringing the car to a stop. “We must go to the old terminal”. We turned around and headed towards a run-down looking section of Warsaw Chopin airport. As he handed me my shabby jacket and falling-to-pieces backpack I asked if he dropped many passengers off at the Wizz Air terminal. “You are the first” he responded.