It’s Saturday afternoon, November 5 about 3:30 PM, my train arrives at Grand Central Station. I lug my suitcase and garment bag outside and wait in line at the taxi pick up area. It takes about 20 minutes for me to get a cab, then another 45 minutes to reach my hotel (I discovered later that it’s only a 35-minute walk). I watched as the money meter rang up more and more while we move not an inch in the heavy traffic. Finally I arrive at the hotel, The Chelsea Star on 30th St. and 8th Ave. My heaven, the front door looks like the door to a vault. I have to ring in, the door buzzes and I pull it open. First thing I’m presented with is a fairly steep, narrow set of stairs leading up to the second floor. I lug my bags up the stairs, this was not easy. I check in with no problem, room #403, two more flights up with no elevator. Luckily for me a short, muscular type picks up my suitcase and carries it to the room. The door opens and I am immediately hit with a blast of hot air. The brutish chap lays my suitcase on the bed and I give him a $5 bill, kind of like "Rag Doll." No?

OK, where is the A/C? There is no window unit. What’s this, a wall mounted unit? Yes, but it’s not on an outside wall. Well, who gives a hoot, I try to turn it on, nothing happens. After a couple of minutes of nothing I head back down two flights of stairs to the main desk. I tell the desk clerk that I can’t seem to get the A/C to work. Her reply was "The A/C units have all been deactivated because the summer season is over." I did my best to explain that very well may be but my room is stifling. Does no good, OK, on my way back up two flights. I thought to myself, look I’m only here for a few minutes as I have to leave for Manganaro’s for dinner, the room should cool down by the time I get back tonight. I see a cradle to put my suitcase on so I do. The cradle collapses under the weight of my suitcase. I giggle, and think no more of it. Then I look around the room, no closet, only a small wall mounted rack with a couple of bars and clothes hangers. OK, no big deal, this will be OK, it’s only for two days. I go into the bathroom, yes, I have a private bath, this is why my room is labeled a “superior” room, anything less than a superior and you have to share a common bath. Anyway, into the bathroom I go to sprinkle some cold water on my face to cool off a bit. What I find is two little bars of soap that God only knows how long have been there. While still wrapped they are soaking wet. Towels? Yes there are towels, two towels, supposedly bath towels that are not much bigger than face towels, remember this room is supposedly for two people. No bath mat, two small face cloths, no cup, and no shampoo, yes there is a toilet. So I sprinkle cold water on my face, dry off and I’m off to Manganaro’s.

It’s 1:00 AM, I've been to Manganaro’s, the play and the after preview party. I have just gotten a ride back to the hotel by Crescenzo Capece. I walk up to the door and ring the bell, I hope to God someone is at the desk, and awake. The door buzzes quickly and I climb the stairs to my room. Oh shit, it’s just as hot as it was before. I’ll never be able to sleep in this heat. So I open the window, knowing full well that without the door also being open there will be no cross ventilation. I can only hope that some cool night air will make its way in. Jesus, what’s that racket? Oh no, directly across 8th Ave. is a club, with many smokers milling around outside in loud conversation. I try to get some sleep, to no avail. The traffic drowns out most of the chatter and I actually find it soothing. Oh oh, red light, traffic stops, chatter is overwhelming. After about two hours of tossing and turning I have to close the window. The room is a bit cooler, I get about 2 hours of sleep.

Sunday morning, I get up, first thing I do is open the window, the club is closed, no matter, people on the street make up for that. I have to take a crap let’s test out the toilet. I climb up on the seat and my feet are left dangling, talk about a throne, this is nosebleed area. With my crap finished I reach for the toilet paper and pull. The entire toilet paper holder falls off the wall to the floor. The toilet paper rips leaving me with about two sheets and the rest of the roll rolls out the door into the bedroom area. I can’t help but laugh as I climb down to chase the roll of toilet paper. I take a shower, well anyway I tried to. The showerhead is mounted on a rail so you can lower or raise it to your liking. The showerhead won’t stay put, gravity takes over. Not being 4’ feet tall the only things getting wet are my genitals, unless I turn around, then I can wet my ass. I slide the showerhead all the way up and off the rail. I then gently put it back half cocked so it can’t slide down the rail, ah sweet success. I finish my shower and use both small towels to dry off. I call home and tell Mary to bring a few items with her this afternoon, things like towels, soap, cups, and oh yes, a pillow for herself. I forgot to add earlier, the two pillows are not much bigger than postage stamps and flat. More about the bed, it has only a cover sheet for the mattress and a single sheet on top of that. Two blankets lie at the floor of the bed, no bedspread.

I see a housekeeper and I ask if there is a fan in the building that I can borrow for the room. A short time later she appears with a nice sized oscillating fan. I give her a $5 bill, this is more like "Rag Doll." Yes? I plug the fan in and it makes all of the difference in the world.

I leave the hotel and walk to Grand Central Station to greet Mary. This is how I know that it is a 35-minute walk. I meet Mary; she has only a small suitcase with wheels so we walk back to the hotel. Mary can’t believe her eyes when we enter the room. $200 a night for this? Yep. We get ready for Opening Night, me in a tux, Mary in a gown. We leave the hotel, knowing full well that we will have to spend the night here.

Returning to the hotel, I guess it’s about 2:00 AM, not really sure as the night has been a whirlwind. I had left the fan on and the room is not that bad, I think we’ll be able to sleep tonight. We only sleep about 4 hours, time to get up, shower, dress and bid a fond farewell to the room from hell.

Next time I’ll spend the extra money and find a room uptown. This was an extraordinary weekend as rooms were in short supply as the NYC Marathon was being held this weekend.

Anyway, if you want to enjoy your stay in the Big Apple stay away from the Chelsea Star Hotel, this place will turn your stay into a Rotten Apple.

Frank Rovello 11/20/05