Grandeur was not oozed

In a totally predictable chain of events, the hotel that was supposed to be "oozing grandeur" in fact oozed nothing but mid-price make-shiftery.  A person staying at this kind of hotel doesn't get the advantages of luxury (a ceramic bathtub, a pool...) or the bragging rights of "roughing it" (this one time, I slept in a tent with a LIVE boa constrictor)

Also, the lobby had a really unique and suffocating funk.  The confused-looking manager sent me to a room that had no air conditioner (the bellboy kept stabbing the control unit with a pen and looking alternately hopeful and crestfallen). Then he sent me to a room that had no lock.  (The group of laborers at the end of the hallway also looked alternately hopeful and crestfallen)

I gave up and called our local correspondent.

"Help me," I squeaked.  "Recommend a good hotel."

"Where are you now?"

I told him.

"That place is shady," he said.  No kidding.

He sent me to a hotel that cost twice as much as the old one.  The manager in the lobby eyed me with distrust and asked for my business card.  Oh well.

Note for travelers: when in India, do not take hotel recommendations from non-locals.  They might mean well but they have no clue what they're talking about.