Die De San Valentin
“Welcome to the Grace Hotel. Here is your room key. There is a private party here tonight, but guests of the hotel are welcome to attend.” Wouldn’t it be grand if this were the greeting at all hotels?
For Valentine’s Day this year I booked a room in the city and some how ended up in Spain at one of Stewie Griffin’s Sexy Parties.
As usual I never know what to expect in the city, but if you are looking for a place to crash with a swim-up bar and a detoxifying sauna, then check out the Grace Hotel in Times Square. You never hear about places like this when you are a resident, but what do I know. Since I left, dumpster swimming in Brooklyn became the latest trend.
After dinner and drinks, Kate and I arrived back at the hotel and were greeted by a tiny man with a clip board. Expectedly, we were not on the list, thus uninvited to the sexy party, until the bouncer overruled him and said right this way…
Essentially it felt like we escaped the U.S. and had a private party for two. No one looked our way, we were American and straight. Nevertheless, we enjoyed two free hours of open bar courtesy of this dude.
