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Smoke-filled motel room no way to see Montana

By BARBARA L. FREDICKSEN
Published July 24, 2006

We had succumbed to the beauty of a Montana trout stream, the joys of a 9:30 p.m. sunset and the aroma of a grilled steak wafting from a roadside diner, so we didn't arrive at our motel until close to midnight.

We lugged our 800-pound suitcases up two flights of stairs - okay, more like 30 pounds, but by the end of that long day in June, they felt like 800 pounds - staggered into the darkness of the room and clicked on the lights, ready to flop face-first onto the first bed we could get to.

Not so fast. The room looked as though a thrash metal band had thrashed it. Unmade beds, leftover room service dishes, wet towels, large, sandy footprints on the carpet.

My traveling companion was on the telephone in a minute, politely describing the scene and asking for another room (one doesn't "demand" a room at midnight in a popular vacation spot). Sure enough, the motel was hosting a huge convention and was packed to the rafters.

But, wait - there was an "emergency" room available. The desk clerk said he'd meet us in front of its door .

I was heartened to see the location of the new room - near the end of a hall and overlooking a quiet, grassy courtyard - and the large "non-smoking" symbol by the door.

But when we opened the door, we could tell the previous occupants had cheated. The room was saturated with the odor of cigarettes. My eyes began to water and my nose started to close. We flung the window open (it was 40 degrees outside, typical early summer in Montana) and turned on the air conditioner. I popped an allergy pill and made it through the night.

The next day, I bought candles, linen-scented room spray and two boxes of Downey dryer sheets and did everything I could to fumigate the room. The motel changed out the linens and wiped down the hard surfaces. I spread the dryer sheets between the mattress and bedsheets, stuffed them into air conditioning vents and put them all over the room. I sprayed the counter surfaces and burned six or seven candles.

But the smoke permeated the very paint on the walls and was not going to go away.

We survived, of course. Unlike secondhand smoke, cigarette odor hasn't proved to be fatal. So far, anyway.

Even so, I was delighted to see that in September, the huge Marriott International Inc. chain is banning smoking in all its 2,300-plus hotels and other lodgings. Not just the more than 400,000 sleeping rooms; smokes are also banned in the restaurants, meeting rooms, halls, lobby, even employee work areas and places within 25 feet of any entry door.

And they mean business, too. If the maid smells the tell-tale stink of smoke in your room, it could mean a $200 to $300 fine, plus any revenue the hotel loses while it cleans up after you, according to Bob Harbaum from Marriott's media relations office in Bethesda, Md.

So far, Marriott patrons have been 4-to-1 in favor of the ban, Harbaum said. Naturally, it's the smokers who are the a-ginners.

In truth, the smoking ban isn't just to benefit us nonsmokers. It's great for the smokers, too.

Perhaps if smoking becomes too inconvenient, they'll quit.

[Last modified July 23, 2006, 22:39:29]