Holidays At The Queensbury Hotel: A Magical Sleepy Journey

Experience a magical drift through time with this cozy bedtime story, Holidays at the Queensbury Hotel. You begin in a snowy, nocturnal village before being drawn into the historic Queensbury Hotel, where a sudden journey transports you back to the opulent 1926 Jazz Age Christmas gala, the year the hotel first opened.

Revel in the optimistic spirit of a time gone by, before finding yourself safely back in your charming modern hotel suite as you fall into a deep sleep. It's time to dream away.

Transcript

Snuggle up and open your heart to the holiday spirit with this calm bedtime story for grown-ups.

Time-inspired encounters await in a festive journey set at the historic Queensbury Hotel in Glens Falls,

New York.

The comfort of the present day mingles with the shimmering,

Hopeful echoes of 1926.

Get cozy as you settle in for the perfect night's rest.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I'm Michelle and I hope my voice greets you as a dear friend and guide tonight as we step into a quiet,

Beautiful corner of Christmas.

Consider me your time-traveling partner for this evening's adventure.

Take a moment to celebrate everything you've accomplished today and simply allow yourself to settle in for this restful journey.

You are free to personalize any detail and drift off to sleep whenever you like.

The inspiration for tonight's story came from my recent stay at the Queensbury Hotel this Halloween.

I'd always wanted to stay at this old hotel,

And walking the halls I could feel the past in every detail.

The subtle creaking of the original wood floors,

The thick solid doors,

And the beautiful architecture.

I spent the evening hours with loved ones snuggling on the cozy couches in the mezzanine during peak fall foliage,

Warmed by the fire and glow of the main lobby's chandelier.

The next morning I took my young niece and nephew to the pool,

Contained with one of the most beautiful glass atriums I've ever seen.

Sitting beside the warm water and peering up at the clear blue sky,

I wondered,

What would it be like to be here in 1926?

What if the pool could be a portal to another world?

That's what brings us here,

To this sleepy tale.

You are listening to Holidays at the Queensbury Hotel,

A sleep story set in present-day Glens Falls.

A holiday festival brings the town square to life,

With glittering lights and holiday tunes as you step into the elegant lobby of the Queensbury Hotel.

Snow falls lightly as you are transported back in time to experience the hotel during its Christmas.

Hot cocoa,

Crackling fires,

The spirit of hope,

And a perfect snowstorm conspire to make this night unforgettable.

It's time to dream away.

Journey inward as you settle in the sanctuary of your mind,

And we take a few moments for relaxation and slowing down.

Invite in a long-overdue ease,

Allowing your breath to become the magic that carries you to imagery and dreams that bring resonating bliss.

Draw in the crisp,

Cool air with an intention to be fully aware of all the sensations that gently come to life.

Your sleeping space is transformed as the perfume of the holiday season arrives,

Carrying the scent of rich hot chocolate and the comforting warmth of glowing embers.

Then let out an easy,

Audible sigh,

Feeling the ease of releasing today's thoughts as you become lighter and more open to new sleepy adventures.

Inhale as if sipping in the most healing,

Seasonal tonic as you expand to claim your space for restoration.

Perhaps yawn at the top of the breath before you sigh once more.

5.

Tune into the subtle,

Rhythmic,

Crackling pop of a roaring fire.

A sound that is already beginning to soften into silence as you anticipate the deep comfort of your rest.

4.

A heartwarming sense of absolute safety and belonging guides you as you are welcomed into the nostalgic quiet of the historic Queensbury Hotel.

3.

Cascading streams of gentle,

Inward warmth flow through you,

Spreading like the protective,

Serene glow radiating from the hearth,

And carrying with it the kindness of an era gone by.

2.

Stillness settles into every part of you,

Tracing down your spine,

Across the front of your body,

Down your arms and legs,

And leaving a blissful warmth in your hands and feet.

1.

Feel the joy of reaching your chosen haven,

Where life slows down and the world exists to support a night of ease,

Grace,

And contentment.

2.

Your breathing relaxes into the most effortless,

Comforting cadence as our journey to the Queensbury Hotel's Christmas magic begins.

Glens Falls is a city nestled in the Adirondack foothills,

The gateway to the alluring hub of Lake George and beyond.

Its rich history dates back to colonial times,

And it serves as a bridge between the majestic landscape of the mountains and the refined world of the southern town of Saratoga Springs.

Famous for its therapeutic mineral baths and racecourse,

Saratoga has,

At times,

Brought a surge of high society excitement and wealth to the entire region every summer.

But Glens Falls offers a cozier,

More intimate experience.

And in the quieter seasons,

It becomes a storybook setting,

With a picturesque village square and gleaming holiday lights.

The rustic influence of North Country living blends with the sophistication and elegance of places like the Queensbury Hotel.

The hotel rises out of the center of the village.

Other quaint bed and breakfast lodgings may be discovered in sprawling 19th century homes nearby.

But in the roaring 20s,

The Queensbury Hotel was erected,

Capturing the elegance and optimism of the era.

Envisioned as a grand social center,

It opened in 1926 and may have only grown grander with time,

Featuring brick architecture and opulent interiors with golden chandeliers and a retro black and marbled light gray diamond checkered lobby floor.

The hotel is a place to step foot in the past while still feeling connected to the comforts of modern life.

It's a magically frosty evening when you arrive in Glens Falls,

Walking through the village square as a weekend holiday festival draws to a delightful close.

The brisk air carries the clean scent of snow and pine,

Overlaid with the faint,

Comforting sweetness of roasted chestnuts,

And melted caramel.

The small,

Classic town square is alight with glittering colored bulbs and holiday decor.

From oversized wreaths to tinsel bells,

Boughs of Adirondack balsam fir drape around the white gazebo rails,

Dusted with snow that becomes prismatic in the sparkling white lights.

An angelic halo brings an otherworldly light to enhance the old world charm of the square.

Though the crowds have thinned,

You hear the last few lingering beautiful notes of a little boy who just learned a popular holiday tune,

Stumbling over the verses as his older sister reminds him how it goes.

Their sweet voices and peals of laughter reverberate across the snowy square,

Where your feet crunch on a path that leads to the crosswalk to the hotel.

As you walk the final stretch toward the hotel,

Light fluffy snow begins to fall with a quiet fortitude,

Dusting your coat and hair with shimmering ephemeral flakes.

The flurries are a light tease of what's to come.

The gentle cold air kisses your cheeks,

Invigorating and inspiring.

Something magical is palpable in the air,

And though you cannot quite place it,

You enjoy the heightened sense of pleasure it brings.

There's a newness to this energy,

Fun and playful.

You hug your arms around your body,

Savoring the night as you approach the grand,

Stately brick facade of the Queensbury Hotel.

It is a beautiful block of architecture,

Rising solidly above the square.

The windows on the lower level glow warmly,

Beckoning you in.

To the right is a pub where holiday music plays,

And locals gather for a post-festival celebration of their own.

The exterior is adorned with massive,

Symmetrical wreaths tied with thick,

Red velvet ribbons,

Radiating a steadfast,

Comforting glow against the deepening twilight blue.

You smile spontaneously,

Grateful for this getaway,

As a few snowflakes melt on your lips,

And you pull the waited door open,

Entering the promise of luxury and historical warmth inside.

Once inside the Queensbury Hotel,

The door shuts behind you with a hushed thud.

The warmth of the lobby embraces you,

Enhancing the coziness of the steadily falling snow outside the grand,

Arched windows of the lobby.

The immediate cessation of the cold and the familiar smells of Christmas instantly soothe you.

You feel simultaneously at home,

And in the pages of a dreamy holiday tale from long ago.

The floor beneath your feet is striking,

With a gleaming checkered pattern of black and marbled gray tile,

Polished to a liquid sheen that reflects the high ceiling and the rich,

Honeyed hues from a roaring fire in the hearth.

The ceiling soars above,

Adorned with intricate moldings and anchored by an immense,

Multi-tiered chandelier that bathes the space in a lush,

Golden hue.

A mezzanine above offers a bird's eye view of the lobby,

Where a few guests settle quietly in armchairs and sofas.

You help yourself to some hot cocoa from the coffee station,

Flavoring it to your preferences,

And settle into an overstuffed armchair,

Draped in purple-gray sateen fabric.

You are in close proximity to the dancing flames in the fireplace.

Amidst the steamy holiday drinks from the pub that add a perfume of clove,

Cinnamon,

And butterscotch are the aromas of recently polished aged wood and the sweet peppery smoke of the wood fire.

A reflective ivory grand piano is nestled in the corner,

Holding space with a profound silence,

Broken only by the rhythmic crackling and popping of the fire and the traveling conversations and holiday songs from the pub.

In the blaze of the fire,

You feel the heat penetrate your layers as the warmth travels up your legs and into your chest.

The profound,

Secure sense of the Queensberry's history settles over you like a weighted blanket.

But it's far too soon for sleepiness to take hold,

And so you rise and decide to explore the hotel.

You stand slowly,

Letting the comfort of the fire reluctantly release you,

And you make your way to the glass-enclosed indoor pool.

The halls are silent along the way.

Many guests are still out,

Enjoying this December night at local shops and restaurants.

An unassuming stairwell leads to a heavy door that opens into an atrium.

The transition from the dry warmth of the lobby to the atrium is like traveling from winter in the Adirondacks to the subtropics.

The air is immediately warm,

Deeply humid,

And intensely quiet.

You find yourself beneath a glass dome,

Surrounded by a frozen world,

Smelling faintly of chlorine and wet tile.

Built as an addition in the 90s,

The pool maintains a sense of the hotel's original grandeur.

You glance up to see the snow falling faintly as the moon breaks through the clouds,

Casting its lunar shine on the aquamarine pool.

The snow is magical,

Seen from below,

Landing on the glass panes and slowly gliding down.

It's a gift to be this warm and yet still take in the night sky with such clarity and comfort.

You approach the edge of the pool.

The aquamarine water is still,

Its surface a flawless reflective mirror of the glass above.

But as the moonlight strikes the surface,

The water begins to delicately spiral in new prismatic shades of blue,

Pearly white,

And gold.

A distant sound begins to emerge,

An ethereal muffled song that seems quite familiar.

You can't quite place it,

But it sounds like an orchestra with a gentle,

Syncopated pulse of a distant jazz age drum and the muted scrape of a bass violin.

As the music crescendos,

The colors in the pool become more pronounced,

Like an impressionist painting revealing a winter night scene from long ago.

The reverberating song is full of merriment,

A sound traveling from a place you cannot yet see.

You lean closer to the pool as the glow brightens.

For a second,

You think you even see yourself dressed in clothes of another time,

Attending a holiday gala.

It seems all so real,

And as the music gets louder,

You feel determined to find its source.

You walk along the tiles around the pool and head toward a set of functional,

Simple glass doors that lead back outside to the heart of the village.

The cold winter air offers a delightful contrast from the humidity as it rushes through your lungs.

Your feet land on snow that seems to be much higher than it was just an hour earlier.

The aromas have changed.

The air is suddenly sharp with coal smoke and ancient pines.

You notice the world looks quite different.

The decorations have changed,

No longer made of plastic tinsel and electric sparkling lights.

Somehow,

You have been taken back in time to December 1926,

And you are now dressed elegantly in festive attire woven with quality threads and care.

The clothes represent the exact ornate dress you would have hoped to wear in the roaring twenties.

The snowflakes are wide and lacy,

Falling with more weight but with just as much grace.

The protective white blanket of snow insulates and muffles the world outside the glowing windows.

The orchestra's song,

Which drew you from the atrium,

Is now a gentle,

Festive bass line.

A low,

Joyful,

Constant pulse of the Jazz Age,

Coming from within the glittering,

Ornate windows.

The laughter and conversation spill out into the night as guests arrive.

The sound is the buzz of a hundred perfect memories being formed right now.

The frosty air is still alive with a scent of wood smoke and the resinous fragrance of Christmas trees.

At the curb,

The road is already covered in a thick,

Undisturbed layer of white snow,

But tracks are beginning to form as long,

Dark,

Gleaming automobiles line up.

Boxy Packards and Model T Sedans,

Their brass headlamps casting beautiful,

Conical shafts of golden light into the white air.

Their substantial,

Imposing vehicles,

Reflecting the new confidence of the era.

You hear the occasional satisfying thud of a thick car door closing,

The sounds swallowed quickly by the absorbent snow.

Then,

Cutting through the muffled joy of the orchestra,

You hear the delicate,

High-pitched jingle of sleigh bells.

An elegant sleigh is parked outside this grand Christmas gala,

Where revelers pose.

Some women in beaded and velvet flapper dresses and thick stoles run out into the snow for a quick pose as a flashbulb explodes.

Figures move with an exaggerated,

Silent grace.

Doormen in heavy,

Traditional coats,

Usher ladies draped in thick fur stoles,

And men in sharp,

Tailored coats toward the grand entrance.

You witness the world differently,

Slower,

More refined,

Like a long-ago,

Black-and-white silent film that has now been colorized and given a new soundtrack.

You step inside the grand lobby of 1926,

And while things are sparkly and new,

The structure still feels very much the same.

The solitude of your night is instantly replaced by a palpable,

Shimmering glee and a feeling of absolute,

Dazzling certainty that the future is bright and full of opportunity.

It is the purest expression of Christmas magic and Jazz Age optimism you have ever felt.

Everyone within the hotel has a sparkle in their eyes,

A gaiety that is infectious,

Causing your skin to tingle with an inexplicable sense of fun and joy.

And rather than explain it to yourself,

You simply go with it.

The ambience inside the Queensbury Hotel is moodier,

More romantic,

And cozier.

It is lit by the amber,

Flickering light of hundreds of flames.

The most beautiful Christmas tree from the north has been brought in,

Towering over 15 feet high,

Heavy with tinsel and ornaments.

Their branches hold delicate,

Real candles,

And small,

Secure holders that send restless,

Adventurous flickers across the ceiling.

This light is warm,

Deep,

And utterly enchanting,

Embodying a caution to the wind sense of adventure.

The scents are intoxicating.

An immediate,

Heady blend of expensive French perfume,

The sweet citrusy aroma of a crystal bowl of punch,

And a faint hint of roasting nuts drifting from the kitchen.

The crowd is a swirl of vibrant movement and style.

Men in immaculate tuxedos and bow ties mingle effortlessly with women in shimmering flapper dresses.

Silk and beadwork catching every angle of the dancing light.

You notice the deep,

Velvet ribbons,

The long strands of pearls,

And the sharp shine of leather shoes.

The collective energy is electrifying.

Laughter rolls like smooth,

Brassy music over the driving,

Syncopated rhythm of the orchestra.

It's an exhilaration that speaks of newfound social freedom and limitless possibility.

Everyone moves with a light,

Confident stride,

Their eyes glimmering with the hope for all the things the future might bring.

You feel this collective confidence wash over you,

A radiant,

Innocent sense that things only get better from here.

That this grand party is a celebration of a boundless future.

The sounds and sights of the gala bring comfort in being immersed in this moment.

A time alive with community and deep connection.

A room that's free of cynicism and division.

The blissful energy wraps you in its happy,

Hopeful embrace as you partake in the festivities.

And while everything may not be perfect in any given moment in history,

Right now,

At the Queensbury Hotel,

On this Christmas night in 1926,

Everything certainly feels perfect,

Or as close to it as life can get.

You find yourself dancing at times,

Or simply watching the elegant dresses and fringe that catch the light.

But suddenly,

The crowd comes to stillness as the orchestra quiets and Bessie,

The gleeful host of the gala,

Clinks a coupe glass to make a toast.

She sports a fashionable,

Sleek,

Raven black bob in a gold-beaded dress that catches the light.

She becomes ethereal in the golden glow,

Captivating everyone in the room.

Her spirited laughter becomes the most joyful note at the gala.

Bessie is the embodiment of carefree spirit and pure infectious fun.

And her presence elevates your mood.

The room stills,

As if frozen in time,

And you feel a wave of warmth spreading through you as she raises her glass in your direction with a conspiratorial smile.

Her voice is fuzzy and warm,

And she seems to understand all that goes through your mind right now.

She says to happiness,

Community,

And the holiday spirit,

May we all find the light throughout the year.

She lowers her glass.

Everything in the room resumes its lively tempo.

The orchestra plays its jazzy renditions of a holiday song.

Bessie makes her way to you with a knowing glance,

Sensing how wonderful it has been for you to have a taste of this optimistic time.

Hopeful its shine will travel along with you back to the future.

She comes close,

Tilting her head playfully,

Though her eyes convey wisdom as she declares,

You know,

Judy Garland may not have said it yet,

Sweetheart,

But there really is no place like home.

The anachronism brings you out of this reverie of 1926.

As it slowly begins to recede,

On your time,

She continues,

Letting you know you may go back whenever you like.

You take in the beauty of the gala one last time,

Turn to her with a smile and gently nod.

For a few moments,

The world of 1926 and the present day co-exist as the music slowly fades.

Bessie turns away from the party and you follow her golden glow toward a quiet,

Long hallway.

It branches off the main lobby.

In the hallway,

The only sounds are the soft,

Hurried click of her heels and the gentle clinking of the beads on her dress.

It feels like a return home as the gala of 26 begins to fade like a forgotten dream in the morning.

As you arrive at your suite,

She waves the circular electronic key.

Her long gold silk glove brushes gently against the door before the modern lock clicks and the door rushes open.

As you step into the hotel room,

The memory of her smile remains,

But she has slipped away,

Back into the hotel's earliest days.

The air greets you with the immediate familiar comfort of your modern day suite,

Dry,

Still,

And scented faintly with a cool,

Residual pine smell.

As you step deeper into the room,

You suddenly find yourself dressed in cozy pajamas.

A delicate fresh scent of recently washed linen and clove soap clings to your skin,

And a subtle,

Lingering minty coolness on your breath.

And you are completely prepared for bed.

And you stand and yawn and stretch for a moment,

Left to wonder if the dazzling night was all but a dream.

But then,

You see a small Christmas tree left on a table that was not there before.

It glows before the window as snow continues to fall outside.

Its ornaments capture moments from the gala and all the flair of the roaring twenties.

You smile as gentle,

Peaceful exhaustion settles deep in your bones.

You curl up under the crisp sheets and blanket in the plush king-sized bed,

Safe and warm.

The lingering joy and carefree spirit of Bessie,

The queen of the Queensbury Hotel's first Christmas,

Now rests gently within you,

Bringing a delightful promise of dreams to come.

And you drift off,

Knowing that the beautiful,

Hopeful magic of the past rests gently within you,

Ready to bring you the deepest,

Most peaceful sleep.

The final sounds you hear are the gentle settling of the old hotel,

The whistling winter wind,

And the faint whoosh of air through the heat vent.

Sounds of absolute safety,

Comfort,

Hope,

And sleep.

Reviews

I heard so little of this beautiful story, I will listen again. Thank you, Michelle. You have an amazing gift! 💜💜💜

Thank you kindly Michelle for another lovely adventure! I never heard of this hotel before, so I looked it up and found some interesting facts. Apparently performers like Bob Dylan, Louis Armstrong, and Kenny Rogers have all called the Queensbury Hotel their home. Also, Benny Goodman and Guy Lombardo performed in the hotels Ballroom. Your description of the roaring 1920’s sounds exciting! I missed a lot as I fell asleep. I put the track on repeat & even tried to listen in the morning but fell asleep again. You write the most interesting bedtime stories. Just wish I remembered more! Wishing you & your loved ones a Merry Christmas safe & healthy 2026! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

Thank you, Michelle🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻So far, I have only heard snippets of the story, so it’s working perfectly!
This very early morning, one of the sentences brought back wonderful memories, how, growing up, we had real candles in our Christmas tree. They were lit after dinner, then the main lights were turned off, and we would sing carols around the tree: nothing more magical…🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Beautiful! I fell asleep very quickly but I will listen again. Thanks!!

Very soothing and relaxing needed an early night due family stress this soon got me to sleep thank you Michelle xx