TBT: Stealing Hotel Breakfast, an Apology

An open letter to the hotel I stole breakfast from in Rome. A frugal traveler's gotta do what we gotta do!

Dear Hotel in Rome,

I’m sorry.

I was directed to meet a tour group at 9am in front of your establishment. You see, my night bus arrived at 5:45 (a frugal traveler skips nights in real beds) and I had some time to kill. After wandering aimlessly, I showed up at your doorstep bright and early at 6:30. You know, just to figure out where I was supposed to be. I was planning on going to a cafe, but from even from outside the building I saw a sign pointing to the toilettes. That’s right about when the urge hits me.

So, I walked in and freshened up a bit. And when I felt renewed, I stepped out and saw your breakfast buffet. It seemed to have a nice spread, and I was a bit tired from walking everywhere with all my worldly possessions. I went to the receptionist to ask how much the breakfast was for non-guests, but he was busy with an irate guest.

Ah well, I’m sure I’ll be greeted by a host or a waiter and I will explain that I am looking to buy their breakfast. Except when I walked in, there were no waiters or hosts to be found. Guests seemed to walk around knowing their routine. It was too late to back out, so I did what any hungry frugal traveler would do. I grabbed a plate and served myself up some breakfast.

That’s right. I stole your breakfast. And it was delicious with a good selection of Italian cured meats and fancy cheeses. A nice fruit salad of berries and apples that didn’t come from a can. And even the Holy Grail of glorious scrambled eggs. After weeks on end eating floppy toast and unsweetened puffed rice cereal, I couldn’t describe the sigh of relief my happy tummy was experiencing. Yet, my stomach seemed to be the only relieved party as I shiftily looked at the adjacent tables to see if they had any receipts to prove they were dining legally.

While I was sipping on a cappuccino from the automated coffee maker, I knew I was had. A slightly disheveled waiter came by to my table, his untucked white shirt peering from under his wrinkly vest. He glanced at me once as I gulped the last sip of cappuccino I was sure to have that morning and reached out to take my empty plate. The waiter was gone before I could mumble a stunned “Grazie.”

And alas this story has a happy ending for me. I finished said cappuccino, and then another. What can I say? I was cocky at this point and severely needed the caffeine. A small twinge of guilt still lived inside me, and then the disbelief that I had actually eaten one of the better breakfasts on my trip gratuito. I haphazardly left a few euros on the table and shuffled out of the dining room back into the lobby where I quickly put on a disguise to hide and draft this letter until 9am.

Please accept this admission of guilt,

Jaimee Choi

P.S. wandergluttony.com not responsible for any legal consequences earned due to copy cat offenders.

P.P.S. This is not a breakfast blog.

Currently Eating: Vegan Stir-Fry Shirataki Noodles (paid in full)

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