There are nights when I lie awake in my hotel room and wish. I wish the hotel designer would pick an unoccupied room, any unoccupied room, and enter it at 9 p.m. Then he should switch off the light and sit on the bed. And listen. And see.
Because what has come abundantly clear to me in my years on the road is the hotel room I pay for to gain a few hours of dark, peace and quiet is neither dark, nor peaceful nor quiet. I applaud that the industry, following Barry Sternlicht’s lead, made heavenly investments in beds and linens. Bravo. Now, why not focus on two things that should really go hand in hand with this: a dark room that is also quiet.
Have you ever looked around in the supposedly dark room and seen all the sources of lights that emit their glows? These glows are slowly depleting my melatonin, making me more alert—the exact opposite of what I pay for.
The TV, signaling that it is ready to serve me? Glowing. The smoke detector for my protection? Glowing. The alarm clock, not dimmable? Glowing. My apologies to the dozens of breakfast menus that I have folded origami style to protect me from the eternally radiant LED. And don’t even get me started on the 5-inch gap between the door and the floor allowing the nice night audit clerk to slide my bill in for easy checkout but flooding my room with the bright light of the hall.
Most curtains don’t close fully, and while I appreciate the view of the city after I check in, when I need my sleep, I’d love to keep the bright lights of the big city at bay, often resorting to bespoke tailoring to keep the shades (mostly) completely drawn, which hopefully keeps out the lights and also somewhat dims the outside noise.
But never mind the city noise outside. Can you hear that 747 take off? Oh, it’s just the minibar fridge kicking in at 2 a.m. Some might hear the air conditioning, especially window units, as “white noise,” but to me it’s just noise. Noise that keeps me from sleeping. While we are on that, can someone please make sure that the standard operating procedure for cleaning a room includes switching off the alarm from the prior guests? I am really sorry they had a flight at 4:45 a.m., but why do I have to get alerted at 3 a.m. as well?
There is a term for what I am experiencing: noise and light pollution. So here is my appeal to the designers of this industry: Let’s stop littering.
Yes, I can ask for a room away from the elevator, and no connecting door, please. But after that I am at the mercy of the designer. So can you please check into your rooms and see what makes them hum, glow, beep and otherwise pollute the environment disrupting my sleep. And then please turn it off, turn it down, buy something quieter, and make lights less radiant. Or at least mitigate it as best as possible. And then go ahead, certify your rooms “QuietNightSleepTight” (not a trademark, but it should be). Then I’ll know where to stay next time.
Airline surveys of transcontinental business travelers show consistently those passengers care about one thing above all: sleep. They land and have to be productive. Why would the hotel industry, which even provides real beds, settle for less? And if the lack of glow and noise makes sleep better, deeper, more refreshing and I, in turn, have a positive feeling toward a hotel or even a brand, wouldn’t that be worth the effort?
In the meantime, I am just going to try out some new folding shapes for the breakfast menu.
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