Saturday, June 18, 2011

Fruitcake Rave I

posh |pä sh | informaladjectiveelegant or stylishly luxurious : a posh Munich hotel.chiefly Brit. typical of or belonging to the upper class of society : she had a posh accent.
Warning- Do not read if you detest pointless, girly rambles, that leave your brain feeling like tapioca pudding and your IQ about 5 points lower.
After having left Estes Park, Colorado, we drove about 8 hours to Salt Lake City, Utah. And right now (Cue Fruitcake-ness) WE ARE STAYING IN THE POSHEST HOTEL EVER! True, I've seen better. Silver Legacy in Reno, and the Venetian in Las Vegas were Posh-er*, but this comes pretty close. Right across from the uber-posh Grand America is the posh Little America. Driving up to the valet parking, I didn't enter fruitcake mode yet, but my posh sensor started beeping when I saw a few elegantly dressed families exit the hotel**, I had a squeamish feeling that we were seriously underdressed. Hey, you don't exactly wear prom clothes for road trips. Unless you're like, filthy rich or something. But back to rambling. We entered the hotel lobby and I think I silently blew a gasket. Everything was like, marble and mahogany, and HUGE. True, the hugeness couldn't compare to the two aforementioned hotels, but it was still pretty neat. Big vases that looked like they could shatter if you looked at them in the wrong way, plump, velvety armchairs arranged in little circles that orbited the crackling fireplace, long marble check-in desks that stretched for forever and a day, tinkling crystal chandeliers that reminded one eerily of Phantom of the Opera...Oh, and the revolving doors. Revolving doors are epic. As are swirling staircases made of mahogany that are absolutely useless (elevator, anyone?) unless you want to make a grand entrance. Which I suppose, if everyone is dressed as poshly as the people I saw come out, may not be to out of this world.
Before I totally kill my brain cells (and whoever is reading this blog) , this is Quiet Girl, shutting up.
-Shhh... (insert girly squeal here) *Actually, the Venetian was so posh it made me sick. I mean, it was like, better than the house I lived in! **Via the elegant, posh, revolving doors that I absolutely adore now. Mom said that revolving doors are what kills people. Something about the mafia and shootings...I can't tell if she was teasing or not, but I believe she leaned towards the former.

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