Immediately upon entering the city, Jules knew that she was in some sort of love with it. She'd been to large enough cities before, sometimes for state competitions, but hardly anything that can compare to New York City. And the weather was significantly warmer than the negative two she'd just left behind in Central Idaho. This is the sort of place she wants, the girl is quite certain- large, with lots of people and therefore far more diversity than Nowheresville, Idaho could ever even begin to hope to offer. The trip to the hotel is rather quick, which she finds regrettable because looking around proves to be an enjoyment in its own right. As she does pull up to the Four Seasons, it occurs to her that this 'big-eyed rural girl' thing will have her looking rather dumb indeed. It is easily hidden, luckily, the initial awe of the city fading away to her characteristic grin, a goofy thing which seems to promise a lame joke or a stupid face.
Seeing that most of everyone else has already passed through the doors into the hotel, Jules makes quick work of gathering her things- consisting of two normal backpacks and one drawstring pack. Perhaps she packed a bit lightly for a full year of traveling, but Jules isn't exactly the sort who owns lots of clothing to begin with, and so it can be certain that she has actually packed a good portion of her wardrobe. This is perfectly adequate for the girl- she found very quickly, while going through security and the like for the plane trip here, that traveling light suits her quite nicely.
Jules does her best to assign names to faces once she has entered the hotel and sees the people making their slow way to the elevators, or perhaps the stairs, or wherever else. Any concentration on this task she might have had is broken when a boy pushes past her, and then past another group of people [all but shoving one of the other people into two others] before he reaches the front. Only seeing the back of his head, Jules can't really say that she has a solid guess on who he is, but she had caught a flash of the face of the director's son, whatever his name is, and can therefore guess that the pushing boy had been the host of the show, and only person who seems willing to speak to the son for more than a few sentences at a time.
Well, this is fun, Jules thinks to herself, raising an eyebrow. In a split decision, hardly a difficult one to make, she branches off from the group and heads to the stairs. 52nd floor, was it? she thinks, grinning before making her way up the stairs. If she gets very tired, the girl might stop and take the elevator from a higher floor. More likely, however, she'll be stubborn, and be the last one to her room because she has decided that climbing 52 flights of stairs sounds more interesting than taking the elevator with a crowd of awkward-seeming strangers.