Weekend Edition / Dear Ohad...
Elite perks that feel like pranks, communal shampoo trauma, Wyndham’s promo labyrinth, robe theft ethics, and the awkward art of saying “I want my own room.” This week, Ohad checks into hotel chaos with sass, sarcasm, and zero tolerance for loyalty program gaslighting.
I’m Titanium with Marriott and just got “upgraded” to a room next to the elevator and across from the ice machine. Do elite benefits mean nothing anymore?
—Loyalty Programmed
Dear Programmed,
Welcome to Marriott: Expectations Edition, where "upgrade" can mean anything from a suite to a slightly less depressing version of the room you booked.
Here’s the trick:
- Check in early via the app—before the front desk gives away the good stuff.
- Add a room preference to your profile (e.g., away from elevators, high floor, corner room).
- Politely ask in person—because nothing books an upgrade faster than eye contact and charm.
Elite status isn’t automatic magic. It’s more like a punch card that lets you politely hustle harder than everyone else.
Why do some hotels have thermostats that don’t go below 68°F, even when I set it to “Arctic Tundra” mode?
—Sweaty & Betrayed
Dear Betrayed,
Because hotel thermostats are performance art. They give you buttons, lights, and beeps—none of which control actual temperature.
Some rooms use motion sensors that shut off A/C when you sleep.
Here’s what to do:
- Cover the motion sensor with a towel or tape.
- Use a travel fan—seriously, a $20 clip-on fan is your best friend.
- Call maintenance and ask for a “manual override.” If they pretend it doesn’t exist, ask for an engineer, not the front desk philosopher.
You're not crazy. The thermostat is.
At my Hyatt last weekend, they removed all the individual toiletries and replaced them with those giant wall-mounted shampoo jugs. Am I supposed to feel pampered or like I’m in a gym locker room?
—Sudsy & Suspicious
Dear Sudsy,
You, my friend, have entered the “sustainable discomfort” era.
Yes, it’s eco-conscious.
No, it’s not luxurious.
Those pump bottles?
- Half full (of mystery).
- Questionably clean.
- Shared by every guest since 2021.
If you’re picky (read: alive), bring your own travel-sized toiletries. TSA-compliant joy in a pouch.
Or do what I do: Use the bottle pump, whisper a prayer, and scrub like it’s a trust fall.
Is it wrong to take the robe from the hotel room? I mean, it feels like a souvenir.
—Bathrobe Bandit
Dear Bandit,
Let’s break this down:
- Slippers: Take them. They’re yours.
- Toiletries: Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
- Robe: That depends.
If it’s plush and embroidered? That’s $150 retail and $200 revenge-charged if you "accidentally" pack it.
If it’s thin enough to double as a napkin? Take it. They owe you for the trauma.
But if you're not sure, check the closet tag. Or just call and ask. “Is the robe complimentary?” is the fancy way of saying “Am I about to commit laundry theft?”
I used points for a Hilton stay, and they stuck me in the worst room on the floor. What gives?
—Redeemed and Regretful
Dear Regretful,
This is the fine print penalty. You paid with points, so they assume you also packed your standards in the same bag.
Want to avoid the dungeon room next time?
- Book a better room with points, not the cheapest category. It costs more, but puts you in the upgrade rotation.
- Call ahead and say, “I know this is a points stay, but I’d really appreciate a room that reflects my loyalty.”
- Mention any special occasion. “Birthday,” “anniversary,” or “finally left my job at Hertz” all qualify.
Hotels don’t read minds. They read reservation notes.
Why is it so hard to use my IHG free night certificate? Every decent property is “not participating.”
—Certified & Sidelined
Dear Sidelined,
Because IHG free nights are like a friend who promises to help you move, then disappears the day of.
Yes, the certificate technically works at “thousands of properties.”
But in practice?
- Most InterContinentals: Nope.
- Kimptons in cities you want to visit: Try again.
- That Holiday Inn Express off the highway? Welcome.
Here’s the fix:
Use the certificate 10–11 months out. That’s when availability pops up.
Or book on a shoulder season weekday, like a Tuesday in March in a city with more rooms than tourists.
It’s not just about using the cert. It’s about setting a trap and waiting.
My friend insists we split a hotel room to “save money,” but I’m over sharing beds and bathrooms. How do I politely tell them I want my own space?
—Queen Bed, Solo Dreams
Dear Solo,
Say it loud and proud: “I love you, but I also love sleep.”
This isn’t about bougie tastes—it’s about sanity.
Sharing a room means:
- Syncing your sleep schedule with someone else's nightly skincare ritual.
- Debating over thermostat settings.
- Holding in a fart until sunrise.
Tell your friend: “This trip matters to me, and I show up better when I have space to recharge. Let’s be neighbors, not bunkmates.”
If they’re offended? Good. They needed the wake-up call more than the wake-up call.
Until next time...
May your towels be triple-stitched, your upgrades unprompted, and your robes never itemized.
Got a travel tantrum, loyalty loophole, or minibar mischief to share?
Email newsletter@upnonstop.com and confess. I’ll bring the sass. You bring the chaos.
