440 pm Tuesday, Chicago, Illinois – The Langham is a fine hotel. Glossy. Spare. Elegant. Your check-in experience is conducted in hushed undertones. Or at least mine was.
The positive effects of all this were unfairly limited by the huge number of tourists and passers-by and police hovering around the building across the street. Which happens to be The Donald’s hotel. The Langham may be longing for an end to election year.
I know I am.
That said, with all the tough parts that come from leaving the family, the good part – perhaps one of the only ones – is being lucky and privileged enough to learn about, and stay, in new, sometimes classy, places.
It’s not home. But it’s at least nice. Not a bad slogan for a certain kind of business travel.
Franklinsanity 
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