Checking out of the Chelsea Hotel

When I say, "Checking out of the Chelsea Hotel", In this case, I mean it literally, not metaphorically as many including poet Dylan Thomas have literally 'checked out' of the Chelsea Hotel. With such a long rock'n'roll and literary history, the rooms I have to say are a little on the 'vanilla' side. Or perhaps that just because I'm traveling on the cheep cheep?

The guests are interesting though, the most interesting are the permanent residents who are a kooky brand of New Yorkers. All grey and designer shabby and intense.

My room had a fireplace which had been boarded up - pity - that would have been really cool, and a kitchen including a full size oven and cooker. What anyone is ever going to cook in the Chelsea apart from Crystal Meth, I don't know, but if you're inclined to bake pies during your stay, you can. The bathroom looked surprisingly like mine at Riverton Street - except blue instead of pink.

The lobbies and stairwells are filled with original artworks that give the place that feeling of a worn bohemia. The best part about staying at the Chelsea is the intimation that you're somebody kooky too. I was walking out of the lobby the yesterday in de riguer jaunty trilby and people on the street ducked down to see under the brim of my hat in case I was somebody famous, or more likely notorious. Pretty funny huh?

PS. This is a blog people - it's a two-way street, when I ask you guestions, I expect an answer.

This entry is proudly brought to you direct from the downstairs lobby of the Hotel Chelsea, better known as the Chelsea Hotel, West 23rd Street, New York, New York.

Hamptons here I come....