Today is my 13th wedding anniversary. Thirteen years ago my husband and I lived in West Virginia, where I spent a couple of years learning the ins and outs of the hotel business at The Greenbrier. It was a fascinating place to be, with 1,200 employees and more than 500 rooms. I can still remember the hushed mornings when I would arrive at work and feel the calm before the storm. The excitement was palpable for me as I pictured the hundreds of people around me in the privacy of their rooms while housekeepers quietly polished hand rails, front desk workers prepared for checkouts, doormen stood at attention.
And then they would start to emerge along the thick carpeting: the golfers headed out for their tee times, the beautiful women in their tennis whites, the shoppers strolling the among the luxury of the stores, children scurrying off to the pool, a couple enjoying a private conversation over morning coffee. The feeling I get in a hotel gets my adrenaline going, and I confess that I am addicted to it.
And now I have a small hotel of my own, which I love. It makes me happy just to turn the corner into the Great Room, with its enormous fireplace and a hush all its own. I love the smells--coffee, lilies, bacon, a wood fire, fresh linens. I'm not sure what this says about me (besides the fact that I have found one of my callings), but there you have it.
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