Saturday, March 29, 2008

Hate Monger

Like everyone else I know, I'm not prejudiced against race. I'm just not sure if that black guy on the train is rapping or really angry. You see, I love like everyone some people.

But I do have a very deep different kind of prejudice. Oh yes I do. If I find out what city or state you live in, believe me, I will have some deeply scornful perceived notions about you. And lots of the time you don't have to tell me where you are from. I can just taste it. And it's nasty.

Here are a few examples.

  • I know you are from New York. You are loud, obnoxious, and seem to think everyone wants to talk to you. I don't care if you can get an saber tooth tiger sandwich at four am in New York. Go to bed.

  • I know you are from Detroit. You are shifty and untrustworthy. Within thirty seconds of this conversation, I have checked my pocket to make sure my wallet is still there and my sides to check on my kidneys. And I am going to call my mom and make sure she is all right. I don't care if you once sold crack to the whole Pistons line up. Go to bed.

  • You are from New Jersey. You. Ugg. Go to bed.

  • I know you are from Toronto. You talk alot yet are unnervingly polite. You are an odd mixture of major American city people and with just enough smugness about not being an actual American. I do feel bad that you had to drive through Detroit to get here. Go to bed.

  • I know you are from Los Angeles. You hair is too complicated for Chicago. And you dress like a douche bag. You are either here to film an interview or shoot a porno in your room. You are also likely to answer the door naked and scare the housekeepers. Go to bed.

  • I know you are from Indiana. You don't want to be here, but your boss made you come. You miss your strip clubs and are afraid of Chicago drivers. You have Chicago envy, but aren't going to admit it. At least your favorite baseball team is here. Take off your trucker hat and go to bed.

  • I know you are from the South Suburbs. You are here for a wedding. Afterwards you get drunk you will go to a bar in your grooms men's suit and get into a fight about whether the Sox or Cubs are better. Then you will come back here, buy two cases of MGD across the street and slur at me something about "where the ladies at?" You will drink one half of those beers and pass out on a bell cart. Go to bed.

  • I know you are from the North Suburbs. You want to tell me how wonderful the musical or opera you just saw was and how crazy your cab ride was. Go to bed.

  • I know you are from anywhere else in Illinois. See Indiana.

  • I know you are from Chicago. You have lived here all your life and still complain about the weather. And you are still shocked about how much parking costs in the loop. You know Chicago is better than LA and New York even though you've never visited either. Finish your blog and go to bed.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Nerd Alert

Man, nothing brightens my day like an exceptional nerd. A guy has been staying here the past couple days and he is acing every nerd test. One of those guys who is so unembarrassed by his nerditoid that he is almost cool. Almost.

Greasy black hair tied in a pony tail? Check
Food stained Microsoft sweatshirt? Check
Thick glasses? Of course
Nasally voice? Yup
Talks about his dietary restrictions? Thank you sir, that's good to know
Flirts with foreign employees by using the wrong language? Check
Busts out an accordion in the lobby and plays for about a minute? Check Mate

Tell me you are not impressed.

Friday, March 7, 2008

Room Dispute

My crazy girlfriend has this crazy notion that we should avoid arguments after we've been drinking. This, of course, is ridiculous. How else are we supposed to involve cabbies, bouncers, bartenders, officers, and your friendly hotel desk clerks in our heated arguments about...uhm....err.....what were we fighting about again? Well, whatever is was, I am sorry, you were right, and I don't know what I was thinking, and will you please get back in the car?

Working the night weekend shift gives me plenty of opportunities to see happy attractive couples leave the hotel for a night on the town, have them come back four hours later still happy, but less attractive, and then have them neither attractive or happy after they hit the mini bar and a bathroom mirror.

Fortunately, it rarely gets violent, but it can present uncomfortable situations. Sometimes funny, but uncomfortable. But it happens, so don't feel too embarrassed. Just know that everything you do will be logged down for all of the staff to read and enjoy. And some asshole might even post a blog about it. Nothing to be embarrassed about.

So anyway, last weekend I overheard a intoxicated dude come in from a night out and immediately buddy up with the night bellman. The gems of the conversation were that he was ranked slightly higher than FBI and would show his gun if you wanted. No thanks. He also invited my coworker up to the room for some booze and the promise of some girls. Sorry sir, I'm on duty!

The guy goes up to his room and calls down an hour later saying that he doesn't want any girls to come up to the room. This is a new one for me. I asked if he was expecting any to come and he confirmed that he did, but not to let them go up to his room for any reason. Uhm, ok.

At 4:30am a leggy blond comes to the front desk wearing a dress that appeared to be a thin shiny dishrag. My night audit sense tingled. I stopped her and asked what room she was going up to. Surprise! I asked to see her id and regretfully informed her that I could not send her up the room since she was not on the account. Turns out the formally happy attractive couple went out clubbing, got drunk, he talked to girls, she talked to dudes, he leaves, she stays, he texts explicits, she texts explicits, he locks the door. All of her clothes, money, and two little dogs are locked in the room as well. I knew she was telling the truth, but my hands were tied. Aside from calling the room several times, there was not much I could do since her name wasn't on the room. So she pulls out a cell phone and says she will call the cops. Good idea, just call 311. Now, I should say that the girl was upset and drunk, but surprisingly respectfully and never raised her voice (well, anymore than normal drunk conversation). She was a nice enough of a person which I found odd since she was dating such an asshole and was from Detroit.

Two cops come, listen to her story, and ask if the four of us can go up to the room with a pass key to retrieve her belongings. The bellman quietly asked me if he should mention to the cops that the guy said he has a gun. Good idea. The cops were less concerned about the gun, but made the girl promise she would stand back and not start yelling if we got the door open. I knock. No answer except the yipping of tiny dogs. I try the pass key. No dice, he dead bolted the door. Sorry, ma'am, nothing else we can do here. We go back to the lobby and the girl tries to call someone, anyone to put her up for the night while one of the cops told me an awesome story about the time he took his wife to Acapulco, got in an argument in a restaurant which lead to thrown food, tailing his wife back to the hotel room, and a mad dash for the room key. That's some good police work, Lou.

So eventually, she calls mom in Detroit, promises her that she made this mistake for the last time and will break up with him for real, I talk to mom in Detroit, and we arrange a room for the night on her credit card.

Long story long, mom and dad pick her up the next day, the cops are called three more times to get her stuff back, and the dude threatens to sue since we disturbed him all night.

In the end, this situation was the least of my hassles for the night.

So again, this stuff happens. It's embarrassing, but it happens. Just be warned that very little is secret. Just think before you drink. For the dogs sake.