Nestled between the bustling streets of the village and the peacefulness of Wildwood Park, The Inn at Saratoga is a spot that many people pass but don’t often notice.
When I did find out about its existence, curiosity and eagerness for a mini vacation compelled me to spend a night there. As I pulled in front of the neutral-colored six-story hotel, greeted by the sound of bluesy music from a nearby restaurant and a stray calico cat, I realized there was more to the inn than meets the eye.
A quick ride up the reflective gold-doored elevator took me to room 407, a deluxe room with two queen beds and a cozy orange color scheme. Stepping through a door onto my private balcony, I inhaled the fresh air and drank in the creekside view.
My first order of business was checking out the hotel’s afternoon tea and refreshments, consisting of platters of crackers, cheese, vegetables and chips. I munched on all of these at an outside table accessed through a door in the lobby, where two elderly women had also found their escape.
I then found myself taking a walk around town, noticing shops and restaurants I never had before as I headed west and took a detour to Madronia Cemetery. I spent some time wandering through the graveyard, hoping to see the tombstone of Mary Ann Day Brown, wife of the abolitionist John Brown, but had to call it quits when my stomach started growling louder than my curiosity.
After grabbing some lemon chicken at Hong’s Gourmet, I inquired at the front desk of the hotel about the complimentary film library they had boasted about on their website. What they had meant by this, apparently, was a six-page list of VHSs available for free, provided I was able to work the ancient player and find the right input on the TV without their assistance.
Finally, I got under the covers, since the room’s heating system seemed to be incapable of actually heating me, and cringed as I watched the outdated movie “The Secret of My Success.” Well, what would one expect to find on a VHS except bad music, bad hair and a bad storyline?
Later, I snuggled into the bed in a waffle-patterned bathrobe I found in the closet and played an assortment of card games. Around 11, I washed up for bed, wincing as the faucet screeched when I turned it, and fell asleep to the sound of something dripping in the bathroom.
I woke up at 7:30 and, after taking a shower using the delicious-smelling cucumber melon products the hotel gave me, meandered to the ground floor for the complimentary breakfast. I tried not to stuff my face too much when choosing from the array of rich bread, assorted cereals, divine pastries and fresh fruit.
Though the inn wasn’t the fanciest or most glamourous hotel I’ve ever stayed at, somehow everything in it—the colorful paintings lining the halls, the mirrors plastered to any empty space, the cheery workers at the front desk, even the amusingly terrible videos—made me feel nostalgic since I was leaving it all behind. Despite its steep prices ($230 per night), it’s comforting to know that if school ever becomes too stressful, The Inn at Saratoga is always waiting.
