Results 1-10of 68 Reviews
Brooklyn, New York
June 16, 2005
The ultra-polite receptionist, who would be seen as exuding an obvious fakeness in New York, appears genuine in the muggy New Orleans warmth as she strikes up a peppy conversation about the threatening rain outside after, of course, I had just dodge the first few droplets running inside. Such friendliness must be innate to every staff member at the hotel, though, as I was almost taken aback by the glee of a cleaning woman in the elevator who, upon seeing the Roman Candy I managed to snag from the constantly disappearing man in a horse-pulled cart, proceeded to explain that it had been a staple of her summers when she was a wee one and that they were just brimming with pure sugar, inspiring a bit of guilt in my gym-deprived limbs. Even the tired-eyed woman manning the breakfast buffet ($6 for continental) saw me as an understanding soul when she felt comfortable enough to confide into me about a difficult situation she had encountered earlier in the day.
This homey atmosphere continued to flow through the hallways filled with stylish paintings of bygone times and into my luxe queen room, which, with its dim lighting illuminating antique chairs and tables and a flower-print bedspread, made me want to twirl like a blonde Scarlet O’Hara, even if I wouldn’t be so successful in creating the same image in my staple jeans and T-shirt. But when the stark-white marble bathroom is inches away from being larger than my Brooklyn apartment, why would I ever rise out of the deep, encompassing tub, in which I can’t even stretch my 5-foot, 8-inch frame from top to bottom, to settle myself in the smooth wood desk or lie on the soft but sturdy bed? Well, when the stumbling pitch-black darkness of a lights-out room is deep enough to nestle your dragging body into an R.E.M. sleep within 1.248 seconds, sleep does sound pretty tempting, especially after pushing through the stormy heat of a city by the water.
Note to the Weary: Before conceding to the seductive eye-batting of the queen-size enormity, secure an uninterrupted sleep by ensuring the alarm button of the radio is securely in the off position. As I did not take such an intelligent foresight into account, the thump of hip-hop and pop beats and Beyonce’s grating voice (at least this early) was my destined greeting at 4am one fateful morning.
From journal New Orleans without Bourbon
July 12, 2004
The Queen and Crescent has a royal sounding name. In the early twentieth century, it was actually the headquarters to a railroad company with a line that began in the Queen City (Cincinnati) and ended in the Crescent City (New Orleans.) Now it's a nice, boutique hotel.
Look at the oil paintings that line the hallways. A lobby chandelier and marble floors, a downstairs lounge and bar, are all the first taste of what should be a comfortable stay. I love the warm brick walls in all the European style guest rooms! Plush robes and minibar are luxury amenities. The fitness facility is sorta small, but you can burn up calories walking around outside. It's an easy walk from the hotel to the river, shopping in the French Quarter or entertainment at Harrah's casino.
From journal Haunted New Orleans
January 28, 2007
December 10, 2008
August 21, 2008
July 21, 2008
June 29, 2008
January 2, 2008
December 2, 2007
November 4, 2007