Satour's place is an oasis of hospitality, rooted in a locale brimming with historical gravitas. The room is tastefully finished and well appointed, more like a boutique auberge, with every accoutrement you can think of, and a few you can't. Sectioned mirrors are seamlessly aligned, facilitating your integrated reflection. The purified water flows freely (okay, it's actually bottled, but close at hand). Stylized faux cacti add a whimsical touch. The mattress was very smooth, with a lightweight comforter (extra credit: bathroom lights stay on overnight, aiding navigation). Thus rejuvenated, gird yourself with the in-room coffee maker before facing down the elite Keurig apparatus outside the perimeter. I could go on, lol. And your maître d'hôtel Satour was a friendly and enthusiastic host, upbeat in communication, very flexible about booking and check in, and provided photos to help with the lockbox. It's a bit of a haul from the 86th St "R" train station, but you might espy the 24-hour McDonald's, equitable compensation for those afflicted with middle-of-the-night Filet-O-Fish® hankerings or McCafé® withdrawal symptoms. There's also a Starbucks, if you're up for a little #SBWorkersUnited with your #PSL (trivia factoid: the venerated #PSL contained no actual pumpkin prior to 2015). It is also now widely acknowledged that short-story trailblazer Washington Irving penned the better part of his 1809 blockbuster (under nom de plume "Knickerbocker") at a pâtisserie overlooking what is now 86th St – sparking intense debate among literary scholars as to whether "Irv" and his wordsmith cronies (such as "Tony" Bleecker) hung out at Mickey D's or The Bux. Heh, just funnin' ya there. Streetwise™ notes: John A. Dahlgren – seriously now, so listen up – was a rear admiral in the Union Navy during the Civil War, who honed the technology for a wide range of naval ordnance (smooth-bore muzzle-loading cannon in particular). Dahlgren directed several naval operations, including the second of two attempts in 1863 to retake Fort Sumter (the siege of which by Confederates in 1861 began the shooting war). He is honored by Dahlgren Place, just north of Fort Hamilton (flanked by Gatling Place and Battery Ave). The street name pegs the title of a 2009 novel about the Verrazano's impact on Bay Ridge, but it was officially misspelled (like many NYC streets) as "Dahigreen" (hard to fathom, I know) from 1903 until corrected in 1974. (And oddly enough, the signage for "Sumpter" Street, in Bed Stuy, is likewise in error, still to this day.)