TBH the 411 on my R&R and ZZZ at JFK’s TWA…BRB and DND

…How’s That for Initialism!?
The red-eye out of San Diego seemed like a brilliant move. A 9PM departure, landing in New York at 5:26AM—plenty of time to connect to my flight to Casablanca. Simple, right? Only we landed early, and for once, that wasn’t a good thing. I staggered over to Terminal One, bleary-eyed at 5:15, looking like some poor hungover college kid, barely dragging himself to a first-period lecture after partying until 4AM.

ACCESS DENIED. Doors locked. The terminal didn’t even open until 6. That, my friends, was the moment. The moment where patience snaps. Sure, in my 30s, I’d have just thrown my bag down and sat with the two other miserable souls, half-asleep in the cold, sterile hallway outside the terminal. But as you get older, your threshold for bullshit plummets. Africa taught me patience, but it also taught me when to pull the plug. You’ve got to control what you can control, right?

So, I’m faced with a choice: spend the next few hours half-conscious, sprawled on an airport bench like some lost backpacker, or crash in a cushy bed at the TWA Hotel, fall asleep to Forensic Files, and wake up like a human. You can guess what I chose.

Besides, I’ve been itching to try the TWA Hotel. I’ve seen the Instagram posts, and yeah, I was jealous. Now? My turn.

The 1958 Lockheed Constellation, affectionately dubbed “Connie,” has been transformed into a cocktail lounge. Too bad I missed happy hour; a drink in an iconic bird like that would’ve been a hell of a way to kick things off.

High-Cost Cat Nap
The TWA Hotel is pure retro-modern indulgence, a slice of 1962 glamour wrapped up in mid-century design, runway views, and quirks like a rooftop pool with planes taking off in the distance. I’d had my eye on this place during past trips to New York, but the price always made me flinch. Today, though, I was desperate and thrilled to see they offered a “Day Tripper” deal—four hours, 6 to 10AM, for a cool $266.09. Yeah, I know. The most expensive nap of my life. But even 90 minutes of solid sleep, in a real bed, with actual quiet? That’s priceless when you’ve got a long-haul flight ahead. No way was I starting this trip running on fumes.

They wouldn’t even let me check in a second before 6AM—which, looking back, was probably a gift. It forced me to wander the place, dragging my bag along behind me as I took it all in. This wasn’t just a hotel; it was a time machine, catapulting me back to an era when air travel was something magical, something luxurious, even a bit sci-fi. And here I was, smack in the middle of it, too tired to care but still soaking it all up.

RAMBLIN’ TIP: Looking for a less-expensive airport hotel at JFK? GO HERE.

The time travel kicks off the moment you arrive, with classic rides like this vintage Lincoln waiting out front. You can almost hear the engines revving, ready to take you back to a time when the journey was as glamorous as the destination.

Once you step inside the TWA Hotel, you’re hit with a strange mix of vibes. Am I living in an episode of The Jetsons or trapped in The Twilight Zone? It’s like I’m caught between the future and the past, and I can’t quite figure out which way is up.

The architecture from the ’60s? It was something else entirely. Those endless curves and wide-open spaces—it’s like walking into a spaceship. The lobby feels more like a scene from a sci-fi flick than a hotel, and you half-expect a crew of astronauts to come floating by.

Gonna go Back in Time
One of the first things that hits you are the long, futuristic tubes—cylindrical walkways that don’t take you to gates, but to different wings of the hotel. Bright red carpet underfoot, blinding white walls all around—it’s a scene straight out of 2001: A Space Odyssey. And don’t just glance at the old-school payphones like they’re props from a bygone era. Get up close, pick up the receiver, and follow the instructions. There’s a little surprise waiting for you on the other end.

What really blew me away were the hidden pockets of nostalgia scattered throughout the place. Little “museum exhibits” tucked into corners, like Howard Hughes’ actual TWA office, preserved in time. Another spot had a living room straight out of the ’60s, right down to the ashtray and rotary phone. The attention to detail was ridiculous. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to hopping in a time machine and stepping back into an era where flying felt like something out of a dream.

Those long, red-carpeted tubes were a blast to walk through—like stepping into a scene from a retro sci-fi flick. You can’t help but smile as you glide through those vibrant corridors, channeling your inner jetsetter.

A row of classic payphones stands there, just waiting for a dime. It’s a throwback to a time when a phone call meant something, and you had to actually talk to someone instead of tapping on a screen.

Howard Hughes’ office is wide open, no ropes or barriers to keep you out. I was seriously tempted to plop down in his chair and soak it all in, but respect won out. Plus, I had a feeling the cameras were keeping a close eye on me.

Around another corner, I stumbled upon a living room straight out of the 1960s. It was like peeking into a time capsule, giving me a taste of how my folks might’ve kicked back and lived back in the day. The nostalgia hit hard—it was a cozy slice of history.

A draftsman’s room, where the blueprints for the future were coming to life. You can almost feel the energy in the air, the vision and ambition of those who dared to dream big. It’s a place where ideas took shape and the next chapter was being drawn up, one meticulous line at a time.

Destination: 1962
The place is packed with eye candy everywhere you turn—vintage travel posters lining the walls, an old-school, painfully pink hair salon straight out of a ’60s beauty mag, and, believe it or not, an oversized Twister room. Yeah, you heard me right. And no, I didn’t play—couldn’t exactly twist myself into knots without a partner. Out front? Classic cars parked like they just rolled off the set of Mad Men. It’s like they left no stone unturned. Every corner, every detail, dripping with nostalgia. Honestly, is there anything this place didn’t nail?

Every wall of the hotel tells a story, a history lesson waiting to be uncovered. It’s like walking through a living museum, with each panel and photo whispering tales of a time when air travel was glamorous and exciting. You can’t help but soak it all in.

A travel poster, just one of many, this one beckoning you to the sun-drenched wonders of Egypt. It’s a tantalizing reminder of the places that spark wanderlust and the adventures waiting to unfold.

A perfectly pink beauty salon that whisks you back to a time when “looking presentable” at the airport was the bare minimum. It’s a nod to an era when flying was an occasion, and a fresh blowout was part of the pre-flight ritual. You can almost hear the hairspray and chatter of stylish travelers getting ready for their jet-set adventures.

I was too wiped out to “Twist,” but let’s be real—if I’d had a partner in crime, I probably wouldn’t have been able to resist. Nothing like a little playful competition to shake off the travel fatigue and dive into some good old-fashioned fun.

Room 112
Let’s talk about the room. Yeah, it’s small—no surprises there. But who cares? What it doesn’t have in square footage, it more than makes up for in personality. The walls are plastered with vintage travel posters, and that rotary phone on the desk? A beautiful relic that nails the retro vibe perfectly. The furniture? About as mid-century modern as you’re gonna get in a hotel built for 2024. I’d booked a runway view, but between the darkness and my exhaustion, I couldn’t tell you if I actually saw a plane or not. Hit the button for the motorized blinds, crashed for a few hours, then it was a quick rinse before I was off to the next adventure.

Look up, look down—there are special touches everywhere you turn, even on the elevator floor with its brass-infused linoleum. It’s the kind of detail that makes you appreciate the thought that went into every inch of this place, reminding you that elegance is in the little things.

Over the bed, a kaleidoscope of travel posters sprawled out like a vintage dream board. Each one is a gateway to a different adventure. It’s hard not to feel inspired, just lying there, ready to take off on your next journey.

I remember using rotary phones as a kid at Grammy’s house. Those clunky dials and the satisfying click of each number felt like an adventure in patience. You had to work for your call back then, and it made the whole experience feel a bit more special.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
Alright, review time. No doubt about it—this place is one of the coolest hotels I’ve ever crashed at. The architecture and all those little touches? Pure magic. Take your time soaking in every retro nuance, from the design on your keycard to the linoleum in the elevator. Whoever brought this place to life deserves an A+. I mean, I’d have thrown in some real, antique 1960s Zenith TVs in the rooms for consistency, but I get it—budget constraints. Still, when you’re here, take a breath and explore; don’t rush it. This is probably the closest you’ll ever get to time travel.

Now, let’s talk staff. They could use a lesson in hospitality, though. Seriously, it’s 5:20 AM, and I’m running on fumes—give me a break. What’s the difference if I get my key at 5:30 or 6, if the room’s ready and just sitting there anyway? And let’s be real, the vibe of the staff doesn’t quite match the hotel’s retro aesthetic.

Then there was the premature wake-up call from the neighbors clanking around like they were hosting a glassware convention, making me wonder just how thick those walls really are. Nothing worse than being jolted awake when you’re dropping good cash on a hotel. And let’s not forget—charging guests to use the pool during peak season? Come on, that’s lame.

Would I stay here again? Hell yes, if the price is under $400. Right now, for a weeknight in October, the lowest rate is $340. I’d totally take that if I had an early flight out of JFK. Airport hotels are just “plane” awesome for those early morning jaunts—nothing beats rolling out of bed and being at your gate in less than 15 minutes. Add the cool factor of the TWA Hotel, and this place is a winner in my book.

RAMBLIN’ TIP: If you find yourself needing a less-expensive hotel at JFK, I’ve compiled a list: GO HERE.