God help you when there's a wrestling tournament in town and you're checking out a grad program in CU.  No Union, no historic Lincoln....yes Super 8.\n\nNow, Super 8 is...a Super 8.  You are not expecting a bevy of Milanese opera singers, clad in diaphanous shawls and wet with the last cloying droplets of the spring rain, to entertain you with their siren songs in front of the tiny fireplace in the antiseptic lobby.\n\nBut, you aren't expecting to see smoking/non-smoking rooms (least if you're from California, a land where tobacco smoking results in summary execution by armed guards)--and being put up in a smoking room is not much of a boon, especially when it smells as if the entire room is an ashtray.\n\nWhen I mentioned this to the disinterested yet vaguely friendly guy at the front lobby, he pulled his head back from teh phone where he was chattin' with his ladyfriend just long enough to query, \""Hey, you want Pops to go up and Febreeze that for ya?\""\n\nHe then gestured in the general direction of a stooped, wizened gentleman, wrinkled and neat, who looked exhausted.  I gulped back shame as I reached for the doorknob to leave.  \""Um, yeah, can you Febreeze it?\""  \n\nThat night it smelled like someone had been smoking in a flowery meadow.  \n\nThe one additional star is for the free wireless in the room.  But I felt I had to taste the air, so I don't know if it really should get that extra estrella.\n\nI'm so sorry, Pops.  But thanks for the Febreezin' anyway.