This is probably the most stupid question you’ll get today, but how does one get into rooftop hotel pools? Do you have to check in first? Do you book a room for that particular afternoon to read books by the pool? This is a 100% serious question.
Actually, the stupidest questions today have been about what I think of Burger King’s viral marketing of gay hamburgers. (I’m sure Baudrillard would have something to say about simulacra with cheese, but I really can’t be bothered.)
As for rooftop pools, this isn’t as shallow a question as it seems. (Yes, I made a pun. Sue me.) You think you’re asking about the customs and process involved in finding your way onto a hotel chaise lounge, but there’s a fundamental lesson here about learning social norms and codes of behavior.
So, how does one get into rooftop hotel pools? It’s painfully simple: One belongs there. That’s all there is to it. Really.
I know you don’t like hearing that. It seems trite and dismissive, but it’s not. Besides, it’s not like I can give you some special secret handshake answer, because your question isn’t specific enough in the first place. (What works at the Mondrian on a Saturday doesn’t fly at the Chateau on a Tuesday.)
Point is, if you want to go to the pool, just go to the fucking pool. If you don’t already know, there’s no other way to figure out how, and if you pay attention and you’re not an asshole, someone who’s already there will happily fill you in on how it works.
I hope you get the broader implications of this advice.
This is a 100% serious answer.