One bed, two towels, an empty fridge posing as a minibar and a view straight into the neighbouring office building where bored temps have seen it all before.
It’s the telephone area code for the eastern two- thirds of Washington, the year AD when King Sigobert The Lame was killed by his son Chlodoric, the Guinness World Record number of candles blown out simultaneously and the smallest Sophie Germain prime to start a 4-term Cunningham chain of the first kind (whatever that means). And it’s yet another hotel room. I’m sure that I’ve stayed at rooms numbered 509 that’s been a-okay. This was merely so-so.