Blue-collar industry, black tie image

When you read this, I will already be home, but as I am writing it, I am at the Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs, and feeling a bit out of my element, although not in a completely bad way.

 

My husband John and I are here for the National Air Duct Cleaners’ Association (NADCA) annual convention. And yes, it IS a real organization; John has been a member for three decades or so.

 

What mystifies both of us, though, is why an organization representing an obviously blue-collar industry has booked its event at a venue that clearly promotes a very black-suit-white-tie image for itself. For crying out loud, there’s a chandelier above our bed.

 

It’s roughly a 12-hour drive from the Waseca area to Colorado Springs. We took it all in one day, and so it was past 9 p.m. when we arrived. The entry to the Broadmoor complex occupies an area about the size of a large city block. The entry begins a couple hundred feet in front of the building. There, at the beginning of a U-shaped drive decorated by such a long line of brightly-lit trees it might as well have been daytime, we were instructed to stop our car next to an elegant little gate house and we were welcomed. We provided our names; it was established we were booked to stay for the night, and a tag was placed on our windshield. 

 

We were given solicitously polite instructions about the next step, which was to pull forward to the valet parking area.

 

Under and around a canopy, the drivers of four or five other vehicles were being assisted by a small hive of employees wearing uniforms which included caps. We pulled forward to a logical spot. While the valet answered someone else’s questions, I stepped over to a bank of luggage carts and began pulling one toward our car.

 

I was stopped nearly immediately. The valet we had spoken with stated kindly that only employees were meant to move the carts. Always politely and never in a way that offended, he persistently located himself so that it would be he who lifted our luggage from the trunk and rolled it inside. He tagged our cart and handed us half of the card, directing us inside to the registration area, stating that the cart would be delivered directly to our room.

 

Once we were checked in, John dashed off to an arranged meeting with some business acquaintances. I was greeted by another uniformed individual who showed me where the elevators were, suggested that I might wish to go up ahead, and assured me she would meet me there.

 

When we were both at the room, it was the reverse of what had happened out front. She persisted in being the one who removed the items from the cart and placed them in various suitable locations around the room. She asked whether I would like to see either of the suitcases placed on a luggage stand. When I said yes, that might be helpful, she suggested it might stand in the closet for convenient, out-of-the-way access. 

 

While moving briskly back and forth, she pointed out the espresso machine, and mentioned that, “Housekeeping has brought up some ice for you.” If I wanted more, she said I had only to dial zero on the phone, ask for housekeeping, and more would be delivered promptly.

 

As she was finished and was leaving, I thanked her for her assistance and guidance–but only realized persons like her are often given tips after she was well out of sight.

 

Others may be accustomed to this sort of experience, but my typical interactions with hotels require, shall we say, a much more independent approach.

 

If I have an excuse, it might be that I had only just finished a 12-hour car ride. It was becoming fairly late, and I was perhaps a bit dazzled by the chandelier along with, well, the whole ambiance of the space.

 

My point is probably strengthened by the fact that one of the very first things I did after the door closed was to take a picture. “My gravel-road family,” I thought to myself, “will get a kick out of this.”

 

So much excitement, even though the current extent of my adventure is having arrived in town and checked into a hotel. Maybe I’ll go try on one of the two elegant, soft-collared white robes hanging in the closet…