Review of Holiday Inn Express Hotel & Suites Huntsville, an IHG Hotel 2*

The hot tub was luke-warm, the pool was (not surprisingly) freezing-for a December afternoon — and the clothes that I accidentally left in my room were STOLEN. This seems obvious, and considering that hotel rooms are regularly stripped of… well, EVERYTHING by unscrupulous travelers, I suspect that this act against me is just another point for the other team, though I have never given any consent to play any games of sartorial sabotage. I checked out of my room on Saturday, and realized that my clothes were missing and called on Sunday. A man named Dante assured me that everything would be OK — he said that the maids hadn't even cleaned the rooms yet, and that when they did, and when my garments were found, that he would call. My sister, who lives in Huntsville, went to the hotel on the next day, Monday, and the receptionist (not our Dante) at the front desk would not help her. She told my sister that the rooms hadn't been cleaned and that the manager would be needed to release any garments. Upon calling them a week later, Dante told me that the assistant manager was not in, and that I should call in the next day to resolve the matter. I asked him to see if the clothes were even there. He checked, and said no. I asked instead "do you think it possible that they're still in the room? Is it possible that my room hadn't been touched in over a week? " He thought it possible. "Do you want me to go check? " he asked, and I said "of course". After a convincingly long wait on the phone, he returned to say that there was nothing in the room. "I sort of expected that this would happen". Now, I'm 6'7" and moderately athletic. If somebody so desperately needed a pair of pants ($50) and a shirt ($35), tie ($75), and socks (vintage/inherited), that's fine by me. Seeing some provincial lackawit gallivanting about in my clothes somewhere in Huntsville would be absolutely priceless and well worth the stain-ready drink I would probably throw directly upon my former white shirt. I certainly hope whoever is guilty has a good tailor, and that that person leaves some pins in these heisted (and hopefully well-hewn) hopabouts by accident. They deserve it. Badly. So, there is a story about crime in the country. The city isn't any better about those types of things, I suppose. Overall, I'm not complaining, but rather telling you to not suffer the same slings and arrows and other Hamletian agents of wardrobe doom that I have lately been barraged with. This is perhaps my way of evening things out a bit. If you read this, know that I'm mostly making a tower out of a termite mound, and that the rooms here are great. Don't ever rely on the scruples of hotel staff when it comes to this sort of thing. Oh — look over there! In my office in Austin, someone has left a grey coat. What's that? Nobody has touched it in… weeks? Looks like the balance of things is in my favor again. Dante may have his smoldering sulfurous inferno — I have a coat to nab. Toodles!