That said, once we were in the room, the only way I could tell this hotel apart from every other one in the chain was that this one had a different remote control for the television.
The room is nice. It is clean, and quiet and the bed is comfortable.
It has a clean, functional bathroom with just enough water pressure to make the shower satisfying, though it has the usual soap that lathers well but refuses to rinse off.
When I was getting into the shower and closing the curtain, it struck me how this bathroom was identical at every level to every other one I've seen in the chain. Same soaps, same shampoo, same towels, plumbing, fixtures, water pressure and shower curtains. I could have been in any city, county, state or even country for all I knew. Once you are in the room, it makes no difference.
If I was designing Hell, I think that this would serve as my model. One would get to spend eternity in a world of generic adequacy. You would not go hungry, or cold in this Hell, no matter where you went. On the other hand, everywhere you went would be identical to the place you just left. Same, adequate food, same adequate shelter. Same curtains. Same scrambled eggs for breakfast.
The truly insidious thing about this Hell is that to those in need, it would seem like heaven at first.