Family matters brought me to Long Island recently, where I had occasion to stay at the mostly refurbished Holiday Inn in Plainview. A lovely place, in a manner of thinking, right off 495 and half-way between NYC and Riverhead. It had a pool (under wraps for the winter), a passable business center and gym, and a Bud Light-sponsored bar, not to mention a complimentary continental breakfast. All acceptable, and entirely expected, for a mid-tier economy hotel with a tinge of aspiration, judging from the new flat-screen television bolted to the dresser in room 224.
But it wasn’t until I scrutinized an artist’s rendering of the “future” hotel lobby – still under construction during my visit – that I discovered the true extent of the Inn’s high-class pretensions. Please join me in taking a moment to study a portion of that rendering, above.
It seems, then, that the hotel will pursue every possible source of revenue moving forward, to include inviting (classy?) call girls to prowl its polished floors. And, in the unlikely event these hussies fail to get wayward husbands to cheat on their wives, Plan B will receive full hotel sanction. What is Plan B? Well, it seems, those mid-Island strumpets may feel free to proposition grade-school kids, provided, of course, that they are carrying the official purple balloon indicating that they have permission to see female netherparts. Just look at the sultry lass above! Is it just me, or is that fire behind her so hot that it’s preventing her from wearing not only a skirt or pants, but also undergarments? Little Johnny’s got some growin’ up to do!*
Here’s hoping that this image lives beyond the lobby’s renovation, perhaps on the keycards reserved for the Executive Suite…
*The preceding paragraph is of a speculative nature and has not been confirmed with hotel management. It’s just as possible – perhaps even probable – that the Plainview Holiday Inn has been victimized by a mischievous artist seeking to avenge an unfortunate lobby experience from his youth… at this very hotel. But that, again, is mere speculation.