Even when I check into a hotel I have stayed at many times before, I still have butterflies in my stomach. No, not because I eat them for breakfast -- that would be insect cruelty. As the Hygiene Hunter, I am obligated to execute a room inspection. Think of it as a program function I can't turn off. Some people don't want to know what lies beneath. I have to know. I arrived at my favorite hotel in London, England yesterday. The Covent Garden Hotel oozes charm. And, you don't have to share your rider with them twice. Plastic lined garbage bins? Check. Liquid hand soap? Check. Extra tissue? Check. Pillows? Clean. Mattress? Spotless. Male escort? Not this time. I'm with my husband. Hit.
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