A meaty chocolate chip cookie in an envelope for guests of the Hilton DoubleTree hotel in Somerset, NJ--its “cookie welcome”-- was a consoling enough touch. We had ground five interstate hours from Washington into exurbia fifty miles south of Manhattan. The checking-in paperwork promised that the "property does not require health documentation” and ”that it’s cleaned with disinfectant.”
But we weren’t seduced. By 8 PM, we had spent 40 bleak minutes navigating Somerset’s vast 21st Century office park of six-and seven-story glass tombstones, acres of asphalt and lawn, and nowhere to stop for gas or a bite. We passed a few shin-high signs announcing “lobby” ahead but no details.
Lost, we pulled over for a platoon of jaywalking Canada geese. Another car stopped, too, to ask if we needed help. The driver was a DoubleTree employee who had finished her shift. “Follow me,” she said. She led us through winding Atrium Way, Atrium Drive, Atrium Drive Extension and past a Hilton Hampton Inn and Suites. “Welcome,” said the sign on the portico. But the pandemic froze the construction four years ago, leaving empty window slots, chain link fencing and construction debris. “We’re accepting reservations,” a Hilton ad promises, “for April 18, 2025 and beyond. ”
A short walk from the Hampton Inn we spotted our Somerset Doubleree. It was up and running despite a downpour. Parking was free and abundant, though none was covered. We forgave that as we entered our top-floor room, No. 645. A ravishing rainbow and ignited the windows our “Junior Suite.” Nothing much separates the a king-size bed and twin night tables from the “living room” of a sofa and coffee table.
Six-forty-five is showing a little age. The desk drawer has only one pull, and it’s broken. So is a knob on a dresser’s drawer. The bath provides “designer toiletries” but not enough for 645’s capacity of four guests. Rooted in an office park, it's a nice place to sleep.