Friday night, I am sitting in my lonely room at the Ritz, listening to russian radio on my laptop, wearing the Ritz bathrobe, getting ready to tomorrow's Stats exam intermixed with LJ-browsing. My first time staying at what is probably the most famous hotel chain in the US (fortunately, I am not very familiar with the posh hotel scene - a luxury once sampled becomes a necessity). If I had a choice, I would've much rather stayed at our regular Wharton conference center, but, alas, it is parents' weekend, and we got transferred to better hotels to accomodate. What can I say - pretty impressive. A grand lobby, with bars, lounges, live music, restaurants, and - my favorite - an a la carte desert bar. Flowers, draperies, superb service (politely requesting a constant stream of tips), a myriad of different toiletries, from mouth rinse to shoe-shine, embroidered towels and bathrobes. Looks like a grand place to stay at for a romantic weekend, to sweep the other half off their feet; a nice lounge for wooing important clients. Personally, though, I am not that impressed, or, rather, this is not (yet?) the kind of service and quality I can appreciate.