I renamed it the “unhappy hour,” even though the thought was appreciated. The hotel put out two wines at 4 p.m. in its lobby, a white and a red. A sign invited guests to help themselves. Ignoring that the wine wasn’t exciting, I nonetheless poured two glasses and we sat on a couch. Then I noticed what most other hotel guests never would have: the smells. First there were vanilla-scented votive candles on every flat surface in the lobby, imparting such a strong scent I couldn’t smell the wine at all. Then there was the wineglass—it smelled like chlorine from the additive used to make them sanitary. The carpeting was new, so the lobby smelled like petroleum, and the entry door kept opening, allowing vehicles’ diesel fumes to spew in. We were under nasal assault. For some people, reading this may conjure up the late comedian Pat Paulsen, who often …