Hotel Beds: the Forgotten Technology

Hotel ads. the world around
With clever marketing abound.
Their rates, they claim, are total steals,
With rebates and with weekend deals,
And stunning views from every room,
Facilities for bride and groom,
The beaches manicured and clean,
The top suites fit for king and queen,
The thick piled carpet, dim-lit bars,
The restaurant boasting Michelin stars,
The gym, the sauna and the spa
Outshine competitors by far.

All this is fine, though hardly cheap.
But truthfully I’m there to sleep.
Oh what a joy if they instead
Concentrated on the BED!

Hoteliers must be a breed
Who sleep where, how and when they need,
Not for them the guest who wheedles:
"On my side I've pins and needles."
No, they’d sleep through screams of "Murder!"
Balanced on an iron girder.
And this explains their inattention,
Lack of care, incomprehension
When faced with an insomniac
Who cannot sleep on side or back.
(Though, truth be told, it’s fairly plain
That sufferers suffer, not complain).

The hotel bed that so enrages
Hasn’t changed since Middle Ages.
Flat, resistant, unforgiving
It’s more for torture than for living.
I guess the good thing is, it's cheap.
Who cares if occupants don’t sleep?
You lie there trying hard to doze,
Knowing you’re paying through the nose
For all this exclusivity
And comfort tramps can get for free.
Your shoulder’s numb, the other one
Feels like it’s shot from out a gun.
You toss around. Oh, by the way
This is your annual holiday.
The sole conclusion you can reach
Is to spend the night hours on the beach.

A third of your life and my own
Is spent, not in a bar, but prone,
Engaged in sleep or peccadillo
Between two sheets, with head on pillow.
This fact, in some hoteliers’ eyes
Comes as a truly great surprise.
"Good Heavens, No! Well, well, well, well,
We have to help them sleep as well?"

Why can’t all hotels compete
By offering us all a treat?
For those who like beds hard as brick
Let them to their preference stick.
But let the rest whose skin is thin
Get softer beds when they check in.
Me? I cannot take it any more;
I’ll sleep, meanwhile upon the floor.

February 2006