Temperature checks, masks part of hotel experience
Masks and temperature checks are just part of being a tourist in your own town these days as B.C. eases up on pandemic restrictions
The Great Pandemic of 2020 will be remembered as a time of great disruption. A time when daily routines, family traditions and the simple pleasure of sitting in the stands at Nat Bailey Stadium, hotdog in one hand, cold one in the other, went the way of the hug.
All of which makes emerging, albeit tentatively, from our global uneasiness that much more exhilarating. It’s like going from a black-and-white existence to a Technicolor one.
One thing COVID-19 did not upend was the calendar, with birthdays, Canada Day and wedding anniversaries still coming and going with their prescribed frequency.
While many of these celebrations were corona-muted, my wedding anniversary fell on a Phase 2 date that allowed a bite at forbidden fruit: a night out at a downtown hotel. It was done so in a spirit evoking Vancouver-born writer Sara Gruen’s poetic line that “life goes on with fragile normalcy.”
And although our overnight stay at the Fairmont Pacific Rim a few Saturdays ago did have masked reminders of our collective fragility, it also provided a liberating sense of normalcy, a feeling that one day we will travel, dine and play as we did what feels like a lifetime ago.
Turned out we were not alone in craving a return to that past, and with Dr. Bonnie Henry unfurling the Phase 3 flag this past week, the province’s hotels, motels, B&Bs and lodges are laying out their welcome mats for what they hope is a steady stream of local staycationers beating a path to their doors this summer and into the fall season.
Our one-night experience provided a hint of what that will look like.
It didn’t take long for the “new normal” to show up, a few days before our stay, in an email confirming our reservation. It began: “For more than 130 years, our loyal guests and employees at Accor properties across North and Central America have entrusted us with their care and safety.”
Had you received a message like this before the pandemic, you could be forgiven for thinking that Accor is a private space agency with a moon hotel rather than the parent company of Fairmont.
Still, it was a sign of the times. The next sign occurred as we pulled into the Coal Harbour hotel’s lobby entranceway on the afternoon of our stay. A masked valet approached our vehicle and greeted us with smiling eyes (and, I assumed, smiling mouth), followed by self-parking instructions. Valet service was available, but in the name of vehicle distancing we opted for self-serve.
It took a while to find a parking spot in the underground lot — “I’m surprised it’s this busy,” my wife of 28 years (to the day, in fact) mused — but once found, we parked and headed to the elevator. I pushed the lobby button with the sleeve of my jacket.
When the door opened, a rush of normalcy smacked us right in the face: There were no “stand here” circles on the floor. A dozen or so young women in colourful grad dresses and too-tall heels were milling about the high-ceilinged lobby.
“A grad?” my wife said to herself incredulously, no doubt wondering why just days earlier we had watched a video feed of our own daughter receive her diploma with nary a grad party in sight.
As it turned out, there were a couple of grads going on that night at the hotel, and there had been one the night before. (Before you fire up your computer to pen a nasty note to the hotel, followed by filling out an online form on the health ministry’s whistleblower page, know that hotel staff said they ensured all the government guidelines were followed, from crowd-size limit to social distancing to hand washing.)
Check-in was similar to pre-pandemic times, except the clerk wore a mask and brandished a temperature gun. Instead of “shooting” us in the foreheads, she aimed its sights at our wrists. “Just a nicer way to do it,” she said with a smile (I assumed, anyway).
We also received a three-page “Welcome to the Fairmont Pacific Rim” package that outlined the dining, health club, pool, laundry and other services that were open but with some limitations. Closures included the Willow Stream Spa, Botanist Bar and Restaurant and the giovane market. One page provided a detailed list of the safety and operational protocols the hotel had instigated, highlighting the use of “electrostatic sprayers” and “EPA-registered disinfecting chemicals,” along with noting that our room “had remained unoccupied for a minimum of 48 hours prior to a final cleaning before our arrival.” The final page was an inroom dining menu as there wasn’t one in the room.
After check-in it was back into an elevator for the ride up to the room. Again, no “stand here” circles, but two guests at the pool level said they would wait for the next elevator to not crowd us. That sense of respecting one another’s personal space occurred throughout our stay. Everyone was mindful of the still-raging storm around us, and that set a tone of calm and relaxation. Which is kind of the point of a getaway.
The front-desk clerk had forewarned that if we needed any glassware we would need to contact the housekeeping department as much of the usual accoutrements in the rooms were not there in the name of reducing common touch points between staff and guests.
Likewise, the mini-bar was empty, but all the usual goodies could be had with a phone call down to the concierge desk. What was in the room were a couple of bottles of water and a “wellness kit” that included a mask, a pair of gloves and a bottle of hand sanitizer.
This was not our first stay at the Pac-Rim, as it is called, yet the views overlooking Burrard Inlet to the North Shore mountains never get routine, and once our wine glasses had been delivered by a very polite (and masked) man, we uncorked a special bottle of wine to toast our marriage and the spectacular view.
In-room dining was out of the question, so around 8 p.m. we headed down to the Lobby Lounge for sushi from the hotel’s heralded Raw Bar. The usual open seating area was roped off in a way that the only entrance was at the host desk, where a masked hostess took our temperature, seated us, and handed us a sheet of paper with a QR code on it.
“Just scan it with your phone camera and the menu will pop up,” she said with a smile (I think).
Minutes later, a masked server took our drink order, after patiently answering my questions about what it was like to work with a mask on and how business was going. (“You get used to it,” and “We’ve been really busy since we opened up again.”)
From there, it was dinner as usual, with every table in the lounge occupied, some live music filling the air, and exceptional sushi and cocktails. All in all, a perfect — dare I say, normal — way to celebrate an anniversary.
And, as it turned out, a wedding. Midway through our dinner, a young couple — she in a wedding dress, he in a hipster suit — were seated near us.
“Do you think they just got married?” I asked my wife.
“Of course they did,” she said, a hint of a three-decade sigh on her breath.
Unconvinced, and despite her protests I got up and approached their table.
“Did you guys just get married?” They looked at each other as only newlyweds do, nodded and smiled (they weren’t wearing masks).
I congratulated them, told them that from my experience June 22 was a very good day to get married, and said it was great to see them going ahead with their big day considering the times we were living through.
“Life goes on,” the bride said, looking at the groom. “Why wait?”
He raised his pint of craft beer in agreement. “Why wait?”
For the rest of the night, during a morning ride through Stanley Park using the hotel’s very cool electric BMW bikes, and during our drive home after checking out, I kept thinking about how that couple faced the future with optimism, not fear.
What their act underscored to me is that we all need to get out there this summer — safely of course — and see what this city, this region and this province have to offer.
Life goes on with fragile normalcy. Why wait?