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inflated than the in-room porn. A carafe of mediocre black coffee should not cost twenty-three dollars.
    So you use the in-room single-cup coffeemaker. The problem is that next to the machine are two little pouches. They’re both silver but one has a light ghost of blue lettering that says “decaf.” If you squint and the light hits it just right, you can figure out what the fuck you’re about to drink. How many people have been burned by this? The pouch of decaf should be hunting-vest orange.
    More accurately, it shouldn’t be there at all. I can’t stand the lightweight pussy who can’t handle a cup of coffee. Why are we at a 50/50 ratio on this? If you had a barbecue, you wouldn’t have two ice chests—one full of craft-brew beer and another full of O’Doul’s. Starbucks must move less than 10 percent decaf but in the hotel it’s 50 percent. There are so many more normal human beings who understand that coffee serves a purpose than these decaf cowards. Need proof? Just go to any self-serve K-cup-style coffeemaker in the hotel lobby kitchenette and notice how the box of regular coffee has, at best, two pods rattling around in it while the decaf dispenser looks like a New York subway car at five o’clock.
    There’s no federal mandate that says you must provide coffee in the room. This is an added convenience from the hotel. So I am offering a federal mandate:
    From now on, my administration demands regular coffee only. If you want decaf, fuck off. Leave the hotel and go to Starbucks. I’m tempted with my fuck-you money to buy a bunch of those empty decaf pouches, fill them with sand and diatomaceous earth, and leave them in hotel rooms. Then when people open them they’ll find a note that reads, “Fuck you, pussy.” Coffee serves a purpose. It is a caffeine delivery system. If you drink decaf you don’t need coffee. You can get the same effect from a Fresca. It’s never like “We’re going to be driving all night. I need some decaf” or “Don’t mess with me when I first wake up and before I’ve had my decaf.”
    These people are like vegetarians. They don’t love decaf, they just want you to know they don’t drink caffeine. And to the hotels—why are you limiting me and other regular Joes to one cup of regular joe just to accommodate the handful of babies who can’t handle real coffee? From now on you decaf drinkers should not expect the business to accommodate you. If you needed insulin, you wouldn’t expect it to be provided. You’d bring it yourself. Are you that delicate? Are you a human being or an inbred poodle?
    And while I’m on room service, I’m never sure what to do with the tray. I see it out in the hallway but that feels weird to me. It’s not like when you’re done eating at a restaurant you throw the plate on the floor. Why is this the practice in a hotel? The Four Seasons in the South of France and the aforementioned Detroit Marriott have the same room-service tray policy. Just slide those half-eaten mashed potatoes out into the hallway. Someone will grab it eventually. In my America, we will bring back the dumbwaiter, a little elevator in the wall in the middle of the hallway where you put your tray and send it down to the Mexicans in the basement.
    This “chuck it in the hallway” policy also feels like an invasion of privacy. Against my better instincts I always have to do the math on the guy behind the door when I see his dirty dishes. “Oh, he’s an omelet guy. Two glasses—I wonder if he’s with his wife or his mistress.” Plus, if I see wasted food I get annoyed. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve been more than tempted to grab a couple cold fries or chicken fingers off the spent room-service tray.
    And when it comes to room service, why is the tip included? As you might know, I don’t like when they add the gratuity