A few weeks ago, we headed to New York for the weekend for a friend’s wedding. Eytan Seidman (of Oyster.com fame) was getting hitched, and we couldn’t miss it. Besides, the wedding was in New Rochelle, NY. And I had never been to New Rochelle. In fact, I’ve never been anywhere outside of Manhattan.
And believe me: we were far, far outside of Manhattan. Sure, it might have been only 20 minutes away, but the Hilton in Rye Brook, where we stayed, could arguably have been on another planet. Or another decade: just stepping inside makes you feel as though you’ve gone through a decorating time warp (Landing you in circa 1963. Seriously, the producers of Mad Men have got to shoot some scenes here).
And just in case that wasn’t enough weird, the hotel was hosting a girls’ dance competition.
Let me tell you: the sight of underage little girls dolled up like prostitutes, set against a backdrop of polyester and unfulfilled dreams is not one I will soon forget. In Eytan’s defense, the hotel we chose was not actually on his list of recommend ones. After all, why listen TO A GUY WHO FRIGGIN FOUNDED A SITE THAT PROVIDES REAL HOTEL REVIEWS? Why listen, when instead you can stay at the Hannah Montana House of Ill-Repute? HUH, RAND?