Why I hate Hyatt

I once owned a franchise which required extensive training to be given to me, specifically in-store, in the other corner of the state. For the two months I trained, I stayed at a Hyatt hotel, which was conveniently located on Main Street in downtown Greenville, SC, across from the store I trained in. I cut a deal with them for staying there for so long, but it still amounted to a pretty large bill. (I did get the best rooms, however, which were surprisingly nice and very cool, such as a long triangular room with all glass on 2 sides).

What I should have negotiated was free Wi-Fi. I couldn't believe I was expected to pay $10 a day for internet service at a hotel that normally charges $200/night for a standard room. I stayed there so sporadically, it wouldn't have benefitted me to purchase more "air time." The entire area of Main Street has free Wi-Fi, but it's cleverly blocked from the hotel that sits on Main St. I wouldn't recommend hanging around on Main Street after midnight with an expensive laptop.

So I was stuck there one weekend, and had been there for days, and was going stir crazy. I don't drink, and was married at the time, so that limited my options for recreation. Greenville doesn't have much of a nightlife to begin with. Friday night I stayed in and watched probably my 1,000th episode of "Forensics Files," in order to save $10 and not bother with the cyber world.

I love bluegrass, and was up near bluegrass country, so Saturday I paid the $10, and looked online for open mikes, jams, gigs, anything to go to for some local amateur entertainment. I discovered Del McCoury made an appearance and gave a free show at a coffeehouse/CD store 1 block from my hotel the night before. That's when depression set in. The problem, you see, is that if I had paid the ridiculous $10 surcharge the previous night, I would have seen the gig, and been set. Instead I missed probably my only chance I'll ever have to see Del, who I consider a legend, do what he does best.



Those are his sons that play with him. I couldn't imagine playing and touring with my dad for as long as they have. But he seems like a really nice guy. He's a big Christian, and forbids swearing on tour. His band is probably in a very small minority that doesn't tolerate any cursing on their tours. And you don't see hair like that much anymore.

His cover of Richard Thompson's 1952 Vincent Black Lightning is my favorite by him. Slow bluegrass doesn't do much for me most of the time.