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With Class and Style

We headed to the Regency Hotel last night just before 8pm for a cozy dinner with 18 others in celebration of a friend's birthday. The original reservations at another restaurant had fallen through.

When we asked the lady at the Regency who took our reservation if they would have a table for 18, she was caught off guard, but promtly assured us everything would be fine.

We milled around by the bar for a while waiting for someone to show us to our table, to show us that there was a table for 18 waiting for us, a table that we could not see in the dining area. The hostess informed us that we had our own private room, and to please follow her.

She led us through the dining area, out the back door by the kitchen, down a hallway with numbered doors, and into room #47.

They had set up three large folding tables in the middle of the hotel room and covered them in large, peach-colored sheets.

We had a kitchenette that worked (one brave soul tried it), a few cupboards filled with clean dishes, a sink filled with dirty dishes, a refrigerator that smelled like something had died in it, a file cabinet bolted in the corner, a television without a remote, and a moldy poo-stained bathroom.

Classy.