It seemed like a great idea. Our fearless leader, Fran, suggested we eschew the traditional hotel scene, choosing a place that came highly recommended by a friend of a friend.

The slick promo piece stated that it was a beautiful and spacious loft in the eclectic SoHo district in lower Manhattan. It had seven bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, a fully stocked kitchen, Internet access and a large community room. I thought it would be a good time, sharing this space with Fran, Dick, Chris and Louie, my GT friends, while we attended the annual awards luncheon.

The loft door had a high-tech fingerprint-reading device necessary for entry. I was feeling good about the rest of the possibilities beyond the entrance. Unfortunately, that was the last of the good surprises.

My room was an 8-foot windowless square (cube, if you count the ceiling) of day-glo orange, except for the inside wall which was a huge sliding glass door with crepe-paper-like curtains. My bedding was neon red, with an extra multicolored blanket for extra eye-soreness. My retinas are still burning from this color ambush.There was a small wall TV (which required a PhD to power up), but it was not angled for good viewing in bed. Of course, there was nowhere else in the room to watch it. The other rooms were identical, except for their individual color combinations, all equally as eye-numbing as mine.

There was a working (although slow) PC tucked behind the entrance door. The track lighting in the ceiling was placed behind the user, thereby casting a huge shadow across the keyboard (with its unusually short cord). Perhaps I should have opened the glass-door curtains to allow my neon room to brighten this area. There was a broken printer nearby, which seemed oddly appropriate.

The kitchen was fully stocked, if you like condiments, Wonder Bread and beyond ripe bananas (one of them actually had some yellow still showing).

The bathrooms were located conveniently across from our rooms. Turning the sink faucet to hot, then turning on the shower (and clicking your heels three times) produced a nice lukewarm drizzle in the shower. So refreshing! After a shower, we were able to use one small towel doled out to each of us.

With a late afternoon flight back to Chicago, I figured to sleep late (another of my misguided notions). At a crispy 7:15, I was awoken by pounding on the door. Our host had failed to inform us that some sort of meeting was being held that morning in the community room. Our host also forgot to arrive in time to let them in. After three such disturbances, I just left the door open.

You might be asking why we stayed there at all. We arrived late and were so tired we just needed to crash. At least it was fairly clean.

As George Costanza once stated, “None of what I have just written was embellished, as no embellishments were needed.”

The loft experience will become legendary, especially because of Fran’s unique sense of humor. I am quite sure it will serve better as an amusing anecdote than it did as a comfortable night’s stay.

-John Wroblewski, distribution specialist

Have you ever been traveling internationally and when you look at a sign in plain English, you just scratch your head as you can’t understand it? Have you ever overheard another guest in a hotel or restaurant talk sternly to a waitress and see the waitress respond with flying colors?

This past Sunday, I had to laugh to myself as I witnessed both scenarios. I arrived in Seoul, Korea on Sunday at 5 a.m. I felt fresh and awake as I traveled across the Pacific on Asiana Airlines. I arrived to the Lotte Hotel and checked in with no problem, a great start to an annual business trip. I had one meeting and took the rest of the day to relax. Around 4 p.m. I started to hit the brick wall, as I call it, or jetlag. I mustered up all the energy I had inside me and headed to the gym in an effort to awaken some energy and stay up until at least 8 p.m.! I made my way to the gym and as I approached the entrance, I noticed the gym looked a little too dark for midday. There was a sign that stopped me in my tracks. “Every 4th Sunday of the month, the gym is closed.” Why the fourth Sunday, I asked? Why not the first, or a Wednesday? Why at all in a huge hotel with international guests? This is a question I may never know the answer to as I returned to my room, after a little disappointment, but more with a laugh and a shake of my head, and fell into a deep sleep.

The second story I will leave you with is one from when I was sitting in the club lounge. I heard a fellow guest not ask, but demand, a bottle of room-temperature water. The attendant returned with a cold bottle of water and a very hot cup of water. Just as the guest was about to jump down her throat, she explained they had no room temperature bottled water, but suggested mixing the cold and hot water. I heard the guest pause and then actually laugh and smile at the attendant. I’m glad he laughed, because it covered my own laughter and applause for the polite, diplomatic demeanor of the hotel employee!

-Alexandra Young, associate publisher and vice president

Friday morning I was flying from John Wayne (Orange County) Airport to Atlanta and connecting to Philadelphia. I was able to secure a rather cheap first class rate through Travelocity by skipping LAX and connecting. The schedule also had me flying out on USAirways and this afforded me a chance to try both products.

But today’s blog is about men behaving badly. While in line to board first (this, of course, is the beauty of being in first class), I saw a youngish chap, head down in his Blackberry, bypassing the line. As he passed me, I said - and these are my exact words - “There is kind of a line here.” And he turned to me and said “Oh, sorry, but you don’t have to be an ass about it.”

Frankly, I was shocked. I looked at him (of course, no one came to my aid) and you could hear a pin drop. I thought and then said, “Ok, let me tell you more directly, you are butting in line and you are behind me, is that better?” He called me an ass again and the guy in front of me started laughing as we walked down the jetway. He told me he was a million-miler and he thought he had seen everything! I said something about him being so crabby in the morning and we all laughed!

On the plane I received a call from one of my clients and I had to tell her the story. “It’s Orange County, Fran - that’s the way they are!” At the same moment, I looked up at the flight attendant and she was mouthing to me the same thing. I was just laughing and said that had never happened to me before! And I have to say, nobody in Orange County treated me badly, so it must have been him.

Now, I am not saying I never butt in line, ’cause I do, but if I get caught, I either say I’m sorry and get back in line, or sometimes, I pretend not to hear the person. Bottom line is, I would not call a person who is right an ass. Frankly, that is not acceptable behavior, especially at an airport and in first class.

The passenger did come onboard, after me, of course. He did not say a peep the rest of the flight and thankfully he was not sitting next to me!

Have we now passed the air rage timetable? Air rage was all the rage prior to 9/11. Post 9/11, airlines adopted a no-tolerance policy. So, are these people, many of whom were not flying in the years before 9/11 nor the few years after, who are now are flying and maybe they don’t know the rules? If any of you are reading this, trust me, I will tell you when you break a rule!

-Fran Gallagher, publisher and CEO

Having a condo in Aspen is one of those luxury lifestyle things — and real estate prices there do put most other places to shame — but you don’t have to buy, you can rent. One of the best deals for deluxe condos I found when I was there recently is The Gant, a fully serviced condo complex with 123 one- to four-bedroom units.

The Gant is set on five acres at the edge of town, in walking distance of shops and restaurants. It also runs a courtesy shuttle to area ski lifts and into town. Amenities you don’t always find when you rent a condo are included at the Gant: concierge, valet and bell service, data ports, WiFi, and daily maid service. A breakfast basket is delivered to your room on arrival with cereal, fruit, milk, breads and bagels, spreads and other goodies, since there is no restaurant on-site.

The units are spacious and have large kitchens open to a great room, fireplaces, and ample baths. Decor is up to the individual owners, and affects the pricing (i.e., the lowest-priced units haven’t been upgraded in a while). The premium units have high-end features such as granite counters and steam showers, and show an interior designer’s hand. Even within that category, though, taste level varies.

My unit was on ground level, with a walk-out patio. It had gray stone floors, which may be expensive and durable but made me feel like I was in a cellar. Even with all the lighting on maximum, it was dim (though the concierge brought me a high-intensity lamp for my working area on request). I wound up working at the kitchen counter because my unit didn’t have any desk space, but other units even have private offices complete with computers, so the point is to get as much detail as you can about the specific unit you’re renting.

I thought it would be a great place for a family ski vacation, or for couples traveling together. As an individual, the owners’ family pictures that were left scattered about made me feel a bit out of place.

There is also a separate meeting facility with an outdoor terrace for private dining; the fitness facilities, which include a sauna, are also in that building. There are three hot tubs scattered about the property, and two outdoor heated swimming pools.

Here’s another picture, of one of the living rooms. Click on any of the thumbnails to enlarge.

–Mary Hunt, editor, eFlyer

I just love it when a male columnist discovers, in writing, that women are different from men. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy … and patronized.

My peeve of the moment is a recent column in the usually wonderful St. Petersburg Times by Roadlife columnist Steve Huettel, entitled Women travel so very differently from men. According to Steve–let’s patronize him and call him Steve, shall we?–women travel with such things as Clorox wipes for hotel bathrooms, “just in case” medicines, scented candles, blankets from home, even vases for flowers. Never mind the common-sense nature of being prepared for health issues; aren’t we sweet and cute and homey?

My real complaint with this and other similar articles that tell women to not let their room number be spoken aloud, or not to travel with luggage that’s too heavy because it slows you down, is that they confuse women travelers with novice travelers of any gender. Maybe it’s just that the guys writing them (I use “guys” in the Dave Barry sense, as opposed to “men,” who know better) know that other guys will be insulted if there is any intimation that they don’t already know everything.

Steve even says that some women travelers “observe rules of etiquette foreign to many men.” He does not explain. Maybe that’s because, as a guy, he can’t be bothered to understand women and knows that to other guys, nod nod wink wink, silly women doing thing guys don’t understand is the norm.

In the words of the immortal Dave Barry, Steve, men and guys are not the same. Guys are funny. Men are responsible. And if someone is both funny and responsible? “That would be a woman.”

– Mary Hunt, editor, eFlyer