Breakfast on the Road
When I’m at home, I never eat breakfast. At home the day is already too hectic; let the dogs out, take out the trash, collect all my crap for the office. Who has time to eat?
…could get used to the aristocracy of it all…
When you’re living out of a hotel, on the other hand, there seems to be nothing but time. All my crap is already packed together and ready to go, there are no dogs to speak of, and there is an entire professional cadre of people who will take the trash out without being nagged reminded.
Side by side with these commandos of cleanliness is an entire kitchen staff dedicated to the proposition that a stomach deprived of breakfast will not stand. Well it will at the very least grumble all morning. Starting the day right with a good breakfast is their mantra, and you can forget about that “continental” crap. No Muffin and juice will suffice. Such a deployment of resources requires, nay demands, a breakfast equal to the sheer commitment of culinary expertise! Besides the company is paying for it so caution to the wind - lay on the Eggs Benedict and don’t skimp on the holandaise sauce…
You know, a guy could get used to the aristocracy of it all…
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