Five-Star Mystery #2: Murder at Hotel Cinema is Now Out!

The moment you've been waiting for!
(or at least I have). To purchase Murder at Hotel Cinema visit your local bookstore (ask them to order if it's not in stock) or order on line. For info on upcoming signings click here.

This week, Opus Hotel asked me to make a Special Celebrity Guest Appearance (okay, my words) on its blog for old times’ sake. Here it is:

Return of the Intrepid Blogger
It’s me again! Did you miss me? Did you even notice I was gone? Don’t worry, I haven’t returned to my old job as general manager of Opus. I’ve been asked to do a guest spot on this blog. Apparently Katrina has been “busy”, but I every time I walk past Glowbal I see her sipping wine on the patio.

[Note from Katrina: FUNNY, Dan. It’s more like guzzling bad coffee on Montreal-bound flights. Now if we’re talking patio-tippling, I believe there have been numerous sightings of an certain author…]

It’s been five looong months since I left Opus to finish my book, and, well, it’s been hell. If I ever questioned whether I loved my job before, I don’t anymore. Managing a hotel is not easy, but writing is ten times harder. Spending all that time with no one to talk to but an evil voice that keeps telling you you’re a fraud can play nasty tricks on your psyche. (That voice used to say the same thing when I was a hotel manager but there were more people around to drown it out).

The good news is, my third book is done and my second, Murder at Hotel Cinema, is out this month. Continuing with the hotel whodunit theme, this one is about the murder of a troubled celebrity at the opening party of a fashionable Hollywood hotel—that is not unlike Opus. When his prized employees become suspects, general manager Trevor Lambert struggles to protect them from the incriminating glare of the LAPD and the prying eyes of reporters, risking everything to expose the killer. Oooh scary! My launch takes place later this month—where else but Opus? After that I’ll be a free agent, so if you know anyone looking for someone to do very little work for lots of money, send them my way.

Truth is, I never fully severed ties with Opus. Not only do I drop in regularly to beg staff to tell me they still love me, but I’ve also done some project work, most recently having updated the Lifestyle Concierge, which will be up and running soon. On a recent visit I was thrilled to see a development proposal for a 250-seat restaurant on Opus’s rooftop. Hot! I’m thinking of applying as a suntan lotion boy, but only if I can wear little white shorts and make enough tips to never have to write again. I was also happy to hear about the opening of Koko in Montreal, which I’m told was the party of the year—and no murders! So much for new writing material.

I used to shy away from commenting on the Vancouver hotel scene, but now that I’m a Special Guest Star with no real accountability, I thought I’d put out a few random Deep Hotel Thoughts:

1. Where are the guests going to come from?
It’s fantastic to see all the new hotels under development in Vancouver, but after the 2010 Olympics it’s going to be a fierce market. Only those who offer a superior product will thrive. Go Opus!

2. Does Vancouver need another Fairmont?
Not that Fairmont doesn’t run fantastic hotels, but with the 415-room Fairmont Pacific Rim scheduled to open in mid-2009 there will be four Fairmonts in Vancouver, plus one in Whistler and another in Victoria. Maybe too much of a good thing? I think Fairmont should give one back. We’ll take the new one.

3. Will Hotel Loden ever open?
I remember the drama when Opus was delayed by a few months and can certainly empathize with the opening team at Loden. By my calculation it’s about seventeen years behind schedule, but maybe it just feels that way. Let’s get a move on, builders, it’s lonely on the boutique front and Opus is looking forward to some friendly competition.

Well, that’s it for now. It’s been great reconnecting. Hopefully I’ll be invited back. If not, you can always visit me at my website. Until then, be cool, don’t forget to tip the maid, avoid hotel rooms with floral bedspreads, and remember to put on a bathrobe before you put that room service cart in the hallway—hotel room doors self-close.

Oh, and don’t forget to enter to win TV Week’s Sex and the City Weekend package, including two nights at Opus with breakfast and parking, spa treatments at Spruce, a Sex and the City DVD set and, la pièce de résistance, cocktails with me at Opus (but no sex, just city) and a signed copy of Murder at Hotel Cinema. Good luck!

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South Beach Hotels: Oh How the Mighty Have Fallen

Since I left my job four weeks ago to focus on writing, the transition from hotel manager to, well, unemployed loser has been challenging at times. I’ve gone through all the stages of grief: denial (“I didn’t quit. It’s all a terrible misunderstanding.”); anger (“What in God's name was I thinking?”); bargaining (“But I could do odd jobs in housekeeping”); depression (“Nobody even cares if I get up in the morning.”); and, finally, acceptance (“Sleeping in is fun!”). But my freefall in status has never been more apparent than last week when I overnighted in Miami after a cruise. (Okay, so it hasn’t been all bad).

In my past life I would have refused to stay anywhere but one of the hot luxury hotels in South Beach. I would contact my counterpart to request an industry rate, and any savings would be offset by reckless spending on drinks, lavish dinners and prostitutes. (Kidding about that last part, just exercising my new freedom as a non-hotel manager).

But as I picked up the phone to call the GM of Hotel Victor it struck me that I was no longer entitled to an industry rate. To introduce myself as a “former hotel manager” just wouldn’t carry the same weight. I considered saying I was a writer of hotel murder mysteries but I knew how I would have reacted: “Who the f**k cares?” If I said I was contemplating setting my next mystery in his hotel maybe he'd offer to comp the room. But no, I could never compromise my artistic integrity that way. Maybe for a two-week stay, but not for one night.

So, I was forced to join the realm of regular travelers, those wretched people who actually pay the rates hotels quote. Fortunately, over the years I’ve learned a few tricks of the trade. After comparing dozens of third-party websites (don’t be fooled by creative URLS like cheapsluttyhotels.com, they’re all owned by the same few companies), I chose an inexpensive but well-located and seemingly respectable hotel in South Beach. Yes, yes, I violated my principle of choosing hotels solely based on how cool they make me feel and how impressed friends are when I tell them I stayed there. I chose based on—gasp—price. And location. How could I possibly continue being a hotel snob when I stayed at 2-star hotels? Could the shame and self-loathing get any worse? Yes, apparently.

Something else I've learned is front desk staff are far more susceptible to obsequiousness and subtle manipulation than reservations staff, who are trained to suck every possible dollar out of travelers. So I bypassed central reservations and third-party websites and called the front desk directly—after hours. Sure enough, I secured a better rate and the vague promise of an upgrade.

Upon arrival, I wasn’t surprised when they couldn’t find my reservation. I half-expected it. Fortunately I had printed off my confirmation, another road warrior fundamental. Take that, suckers! Just try and deny my reservation now, try and make me pay double and then charge me for a no-show three months later. To my surprise, they handled the matter efficiently and professionally, albeit in broken Spanglish and without acknowledging the error or apologizing. And the bottle of wine and fruit basket I expected as compensation for the humiliation of lingering in the lobby and risking being spotted by a former colleague never arrived. No matter, I was happy to be staying in South Beach and not paying $500 a night.

After retrieving my key with its stylish plastic yellow tag I made my way to my room, holding my breath all the way—not out of excitement but because the stained hallway carpet promised unspeakable odors. My room, although not the penthouse suite and with no lap pool or fully-stocked bar or butler in sight, was decent in size and reasonably clean. I have an inordinate fear of floral bedspreads, so I was delighted to see a clean white duvet. There was an odor, however, one of those mysterious stenches that refuse to reveal its source no matter how hard you search. I decided it was tolerable and unpacked my suitcase.

That night, after conceding defeat in my efforts to make sense of the two multi-function remotes provided to control only eight channels, I turned out the lights and crawled into bed. Within seconds I felt itchy. Leaping out of bed, I flicked on the lights and yanked the sheets back, scrutinizing the mattress for bedbugs and—a telltale sign—blood spots. I couldn’t find any, but I knew they were there, lurking in cracks and crevices, waiting for the lights to go out to whistle to their friends and march all over me in a cockroach cavalcade. Still, I couldn’t sleep. The slamming of doors, the hooting and hollering, the strange grunting noises kept me up all night. The walls were so thin I might as well have been having a threesome with the couple next door.

Next morning I checked out at 5:30 am to catch my flight home. I had survived. No bug bites, no lice, no robbery or murder, and no $300 mini-bar bill or $45 parking fee. Maybe I had underestimated budget travel.

While in South Beach I checked out a few hotels I wished I stayed at. My recommendations include the 88-room Hotel Victor, which opened in 2005 and is adjacent to the mansion where Gianni Versace was gunned down in 1997. The only caveat is it’s operated by Hyatt, and I’m suspicious of mammoth chains who try to run boutique hotels. The 131-room Setai is also beautiful, although big and resort-like, and I personally refuse to stay in hotels with two or more towers. The refurbished 104-room Raleigh Hotel is part of the Andre Balazs group and has a stunning pool. The 194-room Delano, part of the Morgans Hotel Group, was a pioneer of chic boutique hotels so we have much to be grateful to it for. Lastly, I’m not a fan of the gilded opulence of Ritz Carlton and its “ladies and gentlemen serving ladies and gentlemen” motto, which is better suited for my grandmother (who’s dead), but if the striking modern lobby of the 375-room Ritz Carlton South Beach is any indication of the company’s future, then things are looking up.

Today I'm off to Seattle, so stay tuned for an update on the Emerald City.

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