Looking for romance in Aspen? Stay at The Residence Hotel and feel as if you are in your own pied-a-terre in Paris.
Do you ever miss your spouse, even though he/she is right there, brushing by you in the kitchen as you pour your coffee or entering your dreams after wrapping you in a warm embrace as you sleep? Well, I miss Baddy and worry that soon we will be so disconnected that our relationship will become nothing more than a hazy institutionalized blend of promises and hopes.
Last year I won a night’s stay at the Residence Hotel. As life would have it, we couldn’t fit it into our hectic schedule but this year I dug deep into my European roots and slowed down enough to “smell the roses” and book the room.
The evening was wedged into Baddy’s seventy hour work week and my accelerated Aspen Real Life schedule and I wondered how we were going to pull it off, but my in-laws fluttered in with the key to our release, smack dab in the middle of a Feisty-One melt down. “Storms a comin’,” I announced to my mother in law, for she was the one who discovered what that meant for our Feisty-One who comes undone when there is a pressure change.
I had two choices, mother my little bundle of terror or leave him in the hands of his loving grandparents and fly up to Aspen to meet Baddy in our Pied-a-Terre. I chose the latter. As I drove up to Aspen, I reluctantly called Baddy to tell him that I would be an hour and a half late and that I didn’t know how to crack the code to get in to the “best secret in town” boutique hotel that we were supposedly staying in that night. Grrreeeaaat, he said and wandered off to the Red Onion to drink on the happy.
I was very curious to stay at this alluring hotel where a few years back the boys, searching for the secret candy stashes in town, were lured in by the mystique of the obscure entrance and found a candy dish at the top of the “black diamond” steep stairs. Little did they know that many years before that, their mother had also been lured in to find, instead of a candy dish, a crystal decanter of liquor left out for the apartment tenants, and perhaps for wandering locals looking for adventure.
Our luck took a turn for the better and Baddy and I checked in to our room. Getting dressed for the evening was challenging, it was all so inviting, the post bed, the velvet comforter, the snow falling softly outside and I felt Baddy drawing closer, “Not so fast mon chere! Tonight you and I are going to embrace the romance and soak each other in, slowly and sweetly,” I informed him.
We walked around our suite, getting to know the hotel owner Terry Butler, a former beauty queen/model/tv host and athlete. There were photographs everywhere of her; Terry on an elephant in India, Terry, in her weight lifting days, wearing a white lycra body suit with an enormous face of a lion stretched down her front, Terry with Jack Nicholson, John Denver, Anthony Hopkins and Sylvestor Stallone and Terry holding a photograph of.well.Terry. “I feel another story coming on,” I said to Baddy.
On our way out, we passed Terry’s office and I was going to ask her if I could come back for an interview. I reminded her that I had a blog and that I would be writing about our stay and her eyes glazed over and she gave me a, “That’s great honey, can we talk about it in the morning?” Baddy, feeling my “wanna be popular complex” setting in, laughed silently at me and swept me away to steal out into the night for an enchanted evening.
**Disclaimer: Yes, I received comp rooms for this stay, and the most delicious comped meal ever, but the opinions are still all my very own.