To make it clear from the outset: In this story, we are all not in Paris, but in a hotel Paris.

The budget hotel with the name Paris is located very deep in the Rhine-Main area, where you can babble and eat croissants. Hotel Paris: Chocolates I have recently told of my romantic escapades, all of which have disintegrated in catastrophic pleasure. In fact, that was not the end of the flagpole. The male hero of this story also had the romantic ideas of a cheap Schmonzettenromans. The Hotel Paris, with which he wanted to surprise me, was unfortunately not as glamorous as the name promises.

The family business with 4 ½ rooms embodied an undeniable ur-Hessian cosiness, but as far away from sparkling romance as Daniela Katzenberger from an Emmy.

The chocolates on the bed were therefore replaced by an apple. My hero, however, was ecstatic about the prospect of spending a night here with the hotel owners, literally next door to me. Hotel Paris: Champagne The fact that the promised champagne turned out to be nothing more than an apple wine did not surprise me at this time.

The continued optimism and the winning laugh of my admittedly attractive company have also gotten me faster than a bottle of cheap champagne. After we left our bags in the room, he said goodbye to the bathroom with a mysterious smile. That does not start so bad, I thought to myself. But again, my expectations fell by the wayside.

Hotel Paris: Cowboy Back comes my hero namely in the complete gear of a cowboy. From the red children’s scarf, to the decorated cowboy shirt and worn leather boots. I thought at first, there is one of the Village People in front of me. “And, I like you,” asks the grinning friend of Winnetou.

My face was certainly not one of the brightest at this moment. Until then, I have seen him only in very well-fitting suits. The Hotel Paris, as it turns out, offers guests day trips on horseback. I do not know if any of you have ever spent untrained the whole day on such a horse, but in the evening there is nothing more to sit with normal, let alone lie, let alone bed games. There you just curse that wretched cowboy who lies next to you, and who eats this wretched apple with satisfaction. The rides from now on solo, to make it clear. Images: © iStockphoto / BananaStock / ThinkStock