Palm Springs is for desert foxes, golfers and gay bikers. Not for this mamasita. Especially when holed up at the JW Marriott in 108 degrees without a mojito or an air conditioned suite to escape to. Yes, the enire "city" (collections of resorts, a Ralphs and a Starbucks) was without electricity during half of our stay, which is a REALLY LONG TIME. Complete claustrophobia. Nothing like being stuck in the desert without espresso. And sparkling water. And an A/C. Other hotel guests (said desert foxes) seemed unfaced, concerned as they were showing off their perfectly sculpted and starved bodies in the "drunks pool" and at the bar, where you could still get a Corona---only if you showed ID when looking under the age of 38! Unreal. Strict Marriott policy, which is idiotic because the day before they did not care and did not ask for IDs, so they are being inconsistent motherfuckers. And may I add "inconsiderate," being that it's feckin 100 plus in the shade and my toenails are curling themselves to a crispy frie.
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