Trade Secret

Want to know a secret?

When you ask for a 5:05am wake up call, I'm going to call you at 5am.

I just say it's 5:05.

Please dont hate me.

Christmas Night

Last night I was looking for my late night bellman and found him in a dark bell closet watching a video on his phone.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Oh, just watching dogs barking jingle bells."

Not exactly what I was expecting a 21 year old guy to watch in the dark, but he showed me his phone. Sure enough, dogs barking jingle bells.

Then he made me a sandwich.

I have a good staff here.

I Know What You Did Last Night Yet Again

Time once again for one of my favorite games.

What made me think you were going to bring an

escort up to the room, yet again:

1. You were a walk-in. I covered this one before.
2. You and some other dude brought in two girls at 3:30am, but they had to leave after you caused too many noise complaints and I told you that one more would result in you being put out in the street.
3. You were wasted and frustrated that your new girlfriends had to leave. The fact that they both left with the other dude probably didn't help.
4. At 4am you asked where the cash machine is. I can think of two reasons why you would need cash at 4am while staying in a hotel. One is that you need money for a cab, but you weren't going anywhere. Two is that you wanted to order in and we all know you dont have to pay for pizza with cash.
5. A blond woman without a coat and high heeled boots (see the before link) came in 5:30am and went up to your floor while barely acknowledging me.
6. She left exactly at 6am, outlasting my estimated usual time by ten minutes.

Best Thing Ever

I have been dealing with some dudes whp are staying in room 505 all weekend. They are pretty harmless, but have been drunk and obnoxious their whole stay.


Sample phone conversation with room 505:

"We need some more blankets up in here, bitch! Oh, and a ham and cheese sandwich from room service. I love you."


At one point I stopped their leader as he was going out for a smoke and politely asked him to refrain from being childlishly abusive to my staff. After chatting for a bit, he decided I was a stand up guy and that I should be his weekend guardian and counselor. When he needed to order a pizza at 4am in a drunken stupor, he made sure I was at his side.


Room 505 ordering a pizza at 4am:

"I want...I need...I want...pepperoni, bitch! Deep dish. Hell yeah, bitch, large! Thank you. I love you."


I also had to consule him about not being a very good fantasy football manager.

"Don't say that, man. Chin up. It's still early in the season."

The best is when one of them got into an elevator with an attractive blond. He had just gotten back from a wedding, so his suit disguised his drunken immaturity a bit. They were chatting at the elevator went up.

She came back down a couple minutes later and told me she knew she was on the 5th floor, but had forgotten her room number. After confirming the correct room she laughed and told me that she had gotten off the elevator with the guy and walked together toward his room with keys in hand.

He asked, "What room are you going to?"

"505"

"This is the best thing ever."

I neglected to tell her that just before she got here, the dude and his buddies just had to show me the rubber female genitilia that they had just purchased at a porn shop. They didn't want to show me a receipt, though. That would be embarrassing.

Support Our Troops

Right before I started my shift, I was warned by the previous manager that he had just checked in a young G.I. who had six drunk buddies follow him in soon after he got his keys to a fairly small room. Oh boy.

I spotted them soon after. Twenty one years old, shaved heads, full of vodka and vinegar. My suspicions of a party night was further encouraged when one of the guys stumbled up to me and handed me a folded twenty.

"Thank you."

"Just make sure you take care of us tonight."

If I was anywhere else I would be a little more dubious of such a cash reward and unclear instructions, but hey, twenty bucks.

After having a smoke with his buddies, he walks back in and gives me another $20.

"Uh, are you sure?"

"Yup. Just take care of us."

Again, still unclear what you mean, but hey, forty bucks.

He goes out again to a convenience store a little while later, comes back to me and hands me $6. On his way to the elevator, it becomes quite clear that he is calling a girl to come visit his room. He has to spell out his name for her. I than assumed that "take care of us" and $46 means please don't call the cops or tell my parents.

"Just keep the noise down, you have neighbors."

She comes in, buddies leave the room to hang out in the lobby, she leaves twenty minutes later.

From the guys in the lobby, me and my staff pick up some info on what happened during the night. Apparently they all went to a strip club where one of the G.I.s lost his wallet, one was last seen "leaving with some Hispanic chick", one who had not had enough of strange girls yet, and two guys who were stuck waiting until the first train to the suburbs leaves at 5:45am.

About three hours later one of them tells us that they called back the woman who visited earlier. She comes in a short while later. I say hello and she said, "Yeah, hello. Again" as she rolled her eyes. Awesome.

She leaves (surprise) twenty minutes later. The G.I. who called her stumbles down for a smoke and tells us how he just couldn't do it. He has a fiance at home and decided that he just needed someone to talk to. I have said before that I am not the morality police, but I have to say he probably made at least one good decision tonight.

At about 5 AM I decide it's time to wake up the remaining soldiers who are dead asleep on the couches and send them on their way before the checkouts begin.

In the end, no noise complaints, no 911 calls. Forty six bucks well earned if you ask me.

Can You Tell Me?

We have successfully survived Lollapalooza again. We had a bunch of bands stay overnight including Skinny Europeans In Tight Jeans, My Mustache Is Ironic, and Too Cool To Tip. Well, that ended this past weekend so the rock is over, right? Wrong. Dead wrong.

I just found out that the hardest rocking band of the 90s is coming to Chicago. I'll give you some clues.

Brothers.
Long hair.
Mmmbop.

Bad. Ass.

Transforming

Cars are flipped over, base jumpers are flying off of buildings, and a building is toppled in front of my hotel. Michael Bay and crew have come to faux trash Chicago for Transformers 3 which leads me to the best guest question of the week.

"Have you actually seen any Transformers out here?"

Awesome. But no.

But if anyone is bored in Chicago this weekend, I would strongly recommend wearing spray painted cardboard box costumes while stomping through the city.