We stayed at the Double Tree in San Jose on the way home. The plan was to get back to San Jose the day before our flight out. That way we could return the car, get a good night's sleep and have the hotel shuttle take us to the airport. I don't know if I told you we had to fly out of San Jose because trading in your airline miles isn't as simple as it sounds and you really need to book your flight a lot earlier than you think you would.
Anyway, we had saved 4 nights lodging by using hotel points and so we decided to splurge on the last day. Now by splurging you have to remember we hadn't stayed in Motel 8 on this trip. We were in Hilton properties with more than one room and often a balcony. But we booked the presidential suite at the Double Tree, and as HRH pointed out, they did have cookies.
We checked in at the hotel before returning the car. Remember this was a girl trip and the amount of luggage was perfectly reasonable for three women traveling in California for ten days. However, it was more than we wanted to load back into the shuttle at the car rental place. We walked into the suite with our cookies only to discover that HRH could be convinced hotel rooms were more just a place to fall asleep in between fun stuff to do.
She meandered slowly through the dining room into the living room and into the bath before exploring the balcony and bedroom. She suggested that CaDiva and I return the car as she stretched out on the couch in front of the movie screen sized television. We didn't need to worry, she assured us, she would keep the room safe. I haven't seen that possessive gleam in her eye since we rented the Lincoln Towncar to move CaDiva to Iowa back in 2004. In case I haven't told you, this was when HRH climbed in, stretched out in the backseat, and declared. "HRH LAND!"
Well, she just now annexed the couch and I think maybe the cookies.
CaDiva and I went off to return the car while HRH swam laps in the bathtub. (I still can't watch Pretty Woman without envisioning HRH wearing her Ipod singing to herself while she soaked in that huge-ass tub.)
The only point at which she looked even more satisfied was as we ate a room service meal which included something she called stuffed hash browns. During the meal she waived our attempts at dinner conversation off with a mumbled, "Don't talk to me." All this and we never even made it to the balcony or the swimming pool.
Even though it was several hours from the nearest In-n-Out Burger and right next to the airport, I would stay at this hotel any day.
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