I don’t much like any sort of an early morning. But leaving before the hotel wakes up is an experience involving more than just rising unreasonably early. There’s no breakfast for one thing. The hotel’s services become simultaneously more enticing and less practical. The pool’s closed and there’s no tomorrow. Using the minibar yesterday would have been a stupid, overpriced indulgence. Now it gazes at you with shimmering, luscious glamour. Along with the air-conditioner, it hums. But you’ve paid your bill and there’s not going to be anyone on reception when you leave. You’ve settled up, don’t complicate matters. You’re just going to leave the key on the desk, right? That eleven dollar miniature of whisky is calling you fey for not going wild. Even the little bag of chips - why is that in the fridge anyway? - looks alluringly crinkly. Leave it alone. Thank god you didn’t bring your salmon.
There is, of course, no-one to listen to your witty remarks. On business, you’re on your own. On holiday, the spouse is inevitably asleep - after all, you’ve got to get up in a minute. On your own, it’s just a bit lonely. At the end of a holiday it seems prematurely and grimly final. Even if you have a speedboat ride from the resort splashing into the rising sun, once your bags are packed and sitting by the door the holiday is quite done.
So you’ve paid your bill the night before and now you’re more than half awake, waiting for the alarm to go off. No point getting up now. Nothing to do, no breakfast, no choice of clothes. If there’s a paper yet, it’s full of local news that doesn’t matter now. All there is is waiting until you drag your own bags across the lobby, mumbling to the suspicious-looking but really uninterested cleaner: “I gotta go, I’ve settled up, I haven’t had anything from the minibar” as off you skulk.
But you have to be ready to go when the alarm goes off.