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Wait, This Hotel Doesn’t Have Microwaves?

I was at my friends wedding this week and it was a lot of fun. It was in Houston and we were staying at the Marriott on Westheimer near the Galleria which is a very nice/expensive hotel that presents a unique set of problems to its guests.

This story begins the night before the wedding, myself and JH who was one of the groomsmen decided to take the groom out for drinks since we weren't having any kind of a crazy bachelor party. We knew that it was Wednesday and we were in Houston and that finding a bar (especially with the cold weather) would be difficult but you only live once and shouldn't call it a night after the rehearsal dinner.

We started at the hotel bar where we ordered "girl drinks" and beers and things were going well until we were informed that the hotel bar was closing, at midnight. Despite the horrible service, we were perfectly content sitting and watching sports highlights and making fun of the drunk businessmen sitting next to us. Instead we had to find somewhere else to finish the night.

Eventually we found out about the greatest bar in Houston, Bronx Bar.

We met our bar messiah while drunkenly buying a few Red Bulls at the Walgreens down the street. A young man with a thick New York accent and clothes that would make any gay fashionista vomit blood, informed us that we could find a bar where things were hoppin' and bottles were poppin'. The best part was that this bar was just two blocks down the street.

Sounds easy enough, we walk over and find our oasis ... a two story bar with seven people inside. Whatever though, we just want to drink and we proceeded to go inside and order drinks for the next two hours. I unsuccessfully hit on the bartender, twice and we played a game of pool and what made the game special was the fact that next to us, a guy passed out playing pool with his friends. (If you pass out playing pool in a shitty bar in Houston on a Wednesday, you're an alcoholic.)

We start walking back and we decide to hit up Walgreens again for some food. I get 2 boxes of Hot Pockets, JH gets a thing of Bertolli pasta and the groom gets a cinnamon bun. We go back to the hotel and part ways with the groom. JH and I go back to our room to microwave our fast food treasures and pass out.

One problem: No microwave.

I'm not eating a Hot Pocket cold and I don't know how the fuck you would eat a Bertolli ready to cook meal without heating it up. So JH and I walk down to the lobby and drunkenly ask "Where da microwaves at?"

The woman working downstairs informs us that the hotel doesn't have microwaves but that there are ovens in the kitchen. So we ask to go the kitchen but she informs us its closed.

Well I don't know about you but I'm not going to throw away a box of preserved fat just because we don't have the proper materials to heat it. So we go outside and find a taxi. We get in and tell the driver we only have one wish "Get us to a microwave. I don't care where the microwave is but we need a microwave."

During our trip, the driver informs us he was once a pimp in Austin. He bragged about owning a nice car and jewelry and how he got with almost every woman in town. I don't believe this for one second but what am I going to tell him? "Thanks for driving us to a microwave but I don't think you've ever been laid?"

He continues his tales of fornication then begins to tell us why he lives in Houston. One night he was at the Yellow Rose (a strip club) and a man came up to him and said he knew who our driver was and started asking questions (I guess he was insinuating this man was a cop). So he packed everything up and moved down here (I didn't ask where his pimp money/clothes went or why he drives a cab now but whatever its cool).

We end up at a gas station and walk inside to begin cooking our feast of hot pockets and pre-made Italian food. We spend the next 20 minutes microwaving (well mainly JH because his food took forever to cook). Rather than be jerks and leave without buying anything, JH buys some water and we're treated to more tales of conquest and manly adventure on the ride home. I give the driver some money and we go upstairs to pass out.

(As a side note I woke up at 8 the next morning and went downstairs expecting a selection of free muffins and coffee. Instead I was told that I could get all that and more from the Hotel's second floor buffet. How much did they want for the buffet? $19.)