The cherubs won't stop staring at me. There are a half-dozen or so of them, lumpy and gilded, hovering around my bed like hummingbirds at their feeders. They might look like chubby little babies, but their faces are squarely middle-aged and old-fashioned, each one looking like a different specific president from the 1800s. Despite their constant attention, they aren't threatening, or even upsetting; in fact, they bring a sort of life—still, distant, but life nonetheless—to the hushed blue tones of my hotel room. Considering this is the Just Heaven room, there could easily be far more cherubim and seraphim loitering around in here, making the relative few that do feature into the room's design an unexpected bit of restraint from a hotel known for maximalism. The Madonna Inn is a charming monument to mid-century kitsch, a wormhole straight back to the early 1960s, a time when the line between dignified and outlandish was perhaps too e...