Ozzy Osbourne Stole My Mini-Bar

February 29, 2012 at 8:59 am 3 comments

A good mini-bar!

A good mini-bar! (Photo credit: geekygirlnyc)

I bemoan the sad demise of the hotel mini-bar!

There is an increasingly worrying trend towards the removal of mini-bars in business hotels. It is not that I am an alcoholic, but there is something very comforting about a mini-bar. Or, at least, there is something reassuring about a fully stocked mini-bar.

It is one of the first things that I check for now upon entering a hotel room. A present, stocked, working mini-bar is a relief. A comfort. A promise that however terrible the hotel food might be, that you will not starve. I will survive. I might break a tooth or denture biting into a Toblerone but at least there will be a Mars Bar and a packet of cashews to get me through the day. However, hard and stressful my day might have been there is the kiss goodnight from Mr Smirnoff to be looked forward to. No matter how the (if working!) air-conditioning de-hydrates me in the night, there will be a cooled bottle of mineral water or a can of Atlanta’s finest (Coke) to get me through.

One can curl up with a mini-bar. You can shut the door and batten down the hatches. You can turn your back on the world. You don’t have to be the lonely guy in the lobby bar being hit upon by even sadder American business women. You don’t have to be the saddo alone in the restaurant trying to look engrossed in his iPad. With a mini-bar you are secure, self-sufficient. You can stay in your room with confidence that whatever the world might throw at you, be it hurricane, Taliban suicide bomber (give it up Smithy) or simply a noisy neighbour, you can survive the night.

So why are they taking them away? It can’t be because people steal from them. They can have “smart” bars now that know when you have removed the vodka, drunk it, replaced the vodka with water and returned it to the bar. Not me of course…….. 😉

Sometimes, they taunt you. You will enter your room with trepidation only to find comfort in that gentle buzz of a mini-bar. And then your world falls apart. You open it up and find it empty. Bereft. Now either this is because you are supposed to have brought your own provisions and they are just providing a mechanism for chilling. Or you are staying at the new Courtyard concept of the Marriott chain. A stupid, stupid, humiliating concept in which you are expected to sneak past all of your work colleagues at reception and got to the “special shop” where they will sell you cans of coke, packets of cashews or Nobby’s Nuts, and miniatures of Mr Smirnoff so that you can sneak back past all of your work colleagues, arms laden with contraband, to return your room and stock your own mini-bar. Ridiculous!

Last night was a huge disappointment. I am staying is one of Birmingham’s supposedly premier Hilton establishments. And, in an executive room. And no mini-bar. And so I was forced to make that long, cruel walk of shame to the Executive Lounge. And there, to my surprise, was the legend which is Ozzy Osbourne. Boy did he look rough. I know he’s sixty four years old and (allegedly) as one might expect after a lifetime of drugs, rock n roll and sex with Sharon. But he looked rough. He looked as if he had just drunk the content of several hotel mini-bars………



Entry filed under: middleman. Tags: , , , , , , .

It is just common sense….. A Tale of Two Weddings

3 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Lisa Flinders  |  March 1, 2012 at 1:33 pm

    I was actually at the same executive lounge and scared him off too – he was trying to get into the beer fridge and it was locked. He looked at me and then ran off (well sort of limped off) – must have been something I said!!


  • 2. Anonymous  |  March 31, 2012 at 1:59 am

    My husband actually survived the best part of a day on the contents of a mini bar. I had left the room to get coffee, got hijacked by a timeshare salesman who convinced me to go to a “brief” presentation. Five hours, several glasses of mimosa and a spa treatment later, I’d signed a contract for a one-bedroom unit every second year at Pablo Bonito Rose in Cabo San Lucas. In the meantime Peter (hung over from the night before) had hunkered down with his lap top and turned those jars of peanuts and bars of bad candy into a not so nutrious breakfast and lunch. To this day I have no idea why he didn’t leave the room.


    • 3. Middle Man  |  March 31, 2012 at 8:25 am

      Oh Val, you didn’t!?

      Respect to your hubby though…..




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