I know, I’ve been a bad blogger. It’s okay to go on hiatus, but then to hardly post when you’re supposedly back is just mean. (How arrogant is that?) Well it’s the busiest time of year, Purim took some time to recover from, and the weather is just getting nice, so who wants to stay inside on a computer?
It’s Pesach tonight, the culmination of weeks of scraping chocolate off the car seats (I love Reeses while driving). But for some, today is check-in day at your hotel. Pesach hotels have never quite sat right with me. A big part of yom tov is the preparation, and nothing embodies that more than Pesach. You’re supposed to clean ever scrap of chometz, and the loophole of simply “selling” your house and checking into a hotel seems not to be embracing the spirit of the yom tov. Plus, you’re supposed to be a king in your house, not a guest at your assigned table. Not to mention the fact that often you have to rush the Pesach bit of the seder to get to the meal by a certain time, because waiters don’t work at 2am. But whatever, I believe in free choice after all. I don’t like the idea, but who am I to begrudge you your hotel Pesach?
The one thing I’ve always found funny though, is how the hotels are dressed up in frumkeit. “Shlomie Dachs in residence!” / “Rabbi Goldblassersteinowitz giving shiur daily!” / “Glatt Uber-Kosher cake! You won’t believe it’s not flour!” Its the letter of the law but not the spirit. And also the hidden hook-up scene. Kids go to pesach hotels to hook up. It’s the semi-secret that everyone knows. I remember, I was there. It’s the perfect storm. The parents are off being pampered or getting their moneys worth at the endless buffet. Every boy working there for minimum wave plus tips has a comped hotel room to take them back to. And the girls are bored and somewhere where few people know them. Plus there’s endless leisure time. I was there as a babysitter for the playgroup, and we only had four hours of work a day.