My Robe, My Chicago

A hotel room that offers a robe invites my weary soul in, covering me in a luxurious white fabric that is too impractical for me to actually own. It’s that little bit of home that is missing when I’m on tour. And since Biceps cannot sleep in a room that isn’t the temperature of the North Pole, a robe is a much welcomed amenity.

The Hotel Sax is situated right on a little river that runs through downtown Chicago. It is near everything your little heart desires. (The hotel did not pay me to say any of this. In fact, they would probably prefer not to be associated with such “kind” as myself….)

Slithering into the hotel lobby in our grungy tour clothing, doubled with my ripped suitcase eaten by the bus bay door; we felt out of place.
A bit under dressed. And a little dorky.

We hopped into the first available elevator, averting our eyes from the other normal humans-the ones without backpacks stuffed full of bagged salads and boxed wines.

Just on the other side of our door was the oasis we needed. I drank in the small, but tastefully decorated hipster room. I did not drink the ten dollar bottle of water ‘offered’ to us from the mini bar.

The mirrored nightstand added that whimsical charm you don’t often find at a hotel. Plus a little bit of humor when one is shooting such things in a frenzy.

I love a hotel bathroom with a little va-va-voom. Typically, we encounter a tan explosion with a little more tan for contrast. This bathroom not only had the ‘voom’-it came complete with the ‘va-va’-wonderful soaps, lotions and thick towels.

And after a long hot shower, I opened the closet door hoping against hope for what I really longed for.
And Hotel Sax did not disappoint.