So You Want To Be A Stewardess

There are hotels you love, and then there are hotels...

Thanks to Singapore Airlines' brand positioning as a 5-star premium airline, one of the absolute perks is that its crew stay in premium hotels.

My favourite bed in the world was the Marriott bed. Specifically, the Marriott bed in Frankfurt. It had this Goldilocks magic, with just the right everything. The pillows were fluffy yet had enough body. The thick mattress was neither too firm nor too soft - and the clincher was that the bed was just a little higher than average. I don't know why, but this added height just made it extra luxurious.

It wasn't just the bed. It was the room as well. Just the right size and the perfect touch of cleanliness, i.e. extra clean without tipping into sterile. To top it off, for some mysterious reason, the sun always shone in Frankfurt, making the hotel sparkle like a total flirt the dozen or so times I was there.

Hotels had myriad personalities just like humans.

The Crown in Melbourne I remembered as luxurious and moody, mostly because of the city's temperamental weather. I loved it because each room had this wonderful window seat which was made for daydreaming on. I spent more time on that seat than in bed.

And then there were those hotels that were more... complicated. Despite their luxury status, some felt - I'm just going to say it - haunted.

One of them was in Tokyo. It had a distinguished air, but it also felt like it could totally be a set for a horror film.

Usually, I was pretty drained and spaced out by the time we checked in, but the first time I rolled my Samsonite into this lobby, I was immediately uneasy. I became hyper-aware, and that's when I noticed one of the stewards lagging behind as we made our way to our rooms. I turned to look and saw him approach the reception desk.

That night, a few of us gathered in his room for drinks. After a couple, he asked which floors we'd been assigned to, and told us if we ever got assigned a certain room or even floor, to make sure we changed it.

This was why:

One night, he checked into this hotel, and was assigned a particular room closest to the lift. That night, he had a tormented dream. He dreamt about a woman in red, pacing fiercely in the cramped lift. Watching her, his heart started to thump fearfully. This was no ordinary woman. Her hair was long and wild, obscuring her face. He tried to get a closer look. 

Abruptly, she looked up, straight at him. It was the most frightening sight. She had crazed eyes, caked blood on her fangs, a bloodless face - he knew straight away. This was a vengeful ghost. She locked in on him, glanced at the lift buttons and pressed the one for his floor.

He panicked but there was nothing he could do. The lift rose and rose till it went ding! and stopped at his floor.

She stormed out like a bat out of hell, then suddenly -

Bang! Bang! Bang! His room door rattled with the ferocity of someone trying to break it down from the outside. He jumped awake, scared out of his skin. Had he heard it or not? Then again - Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! The banging on the door would not stop. For a second, he wanted to go see who was at the door, but his primal instincts kept him in bed. He knew if he even just peeked through the peephole, he would somehow be lost forever. And so he stayed trembling in his bed, waiting for the knocking to pass. It eventually subsided.

That's why he'd asked for a room change. Apparently, the receptionist didn't even bat an eyelid when he made the request.

That night, and in fact, from that flight onwards, no matter which hotel I checked into, I always slept with the curtains drawn open and all the lights on. It was my way of self-assurance, that all this light would keep the darkness at bay.