I’ve seen many a wondrous sight over my sixteen years in the hospitality trenches.
And as you well know, gentle readers, I’ve seen things that would not only turn your hair white, but make it recede back into your head, never to be seen again.
However, this morning not only took the cake, it placed it on a rocket bound for Mars with only enough fuel for a one-way trip….
After my usual trek across the desolate Niagara Falls urban landscape in the early hours of the morn, I was feeling simultaneously mellow and tense. Residual joy from a restful slumber served me well – until I arrived at my desk and cast my weary eyes upon five separate sets of rooming lists for five different buses.
Fortunately, I had sixty-minutes to prepare myself for the coming onslaught.
Unfortunately, sixty years wouldn’t have been enough.
After tackling a single bus as a team, the midnight bellman and I split up; he headed for a separate tower, leaving me to handle a small group of Spanish travelers solo. According to the plan, their bags were to be left outside their doors, thus ensuring privacy.
The plan, however, was shot to H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks with extreme prejudice.
I was forced to knock on each of the group’s ten doors, after which I was forced to fake my way through a Spanish-English verbal exchange that ended with an awkward smile and a nod. In spite of that obstacle, things went quite well.
(You knew this was coming, right?)
I knocked on the door of Room 805. The door opened – slightly. A statuesque Spanish female, wrapped head-to-toe in a series of towels, answered. She giggled hysterically, yet in a very low tone. She allowed me the the bare minimum berth necessary to retrieve a single bag. She then abruptly shouted in Spanish to her male partner in the bathroom, who answered in a similarly pensive tone.
In retrospect, I suppose I can understand how he felt.
I moved away from the doorway to load the first bag on my already-overloaded cart and when I returned, my mind became equally cluttered.
There she stood, my Spanish guest of Amazonian descent, the air of mystery had evaporated slightly and so her figure was visible – as was the inanimate, plastic male appendage strapped to her waist.
You read that correctly.
She was wearing two white cotton towels and a strap-on dildo.
Just let the weight of that statement thrust its way into your consciousness for a moment – repeatedly.
What else is there to say, really? I reached for the second bag – slooowly, mind you – and then I got the hell out of Dodge, faster than Justin Bieber if he accidentally walked into a PTA meeting.
Now do you see where my sympathy for her partner springs from? Talk about bending over backwards for your girlfriend…
And that was my morning in a cracked nutshell.
On the bright side, today is New Comic Book Day! All I have to do is survive the next few hours and delicious nerd victory will be mine…
Soon I will be surrounded by comic book goodness while visiting my two favorite locations here in Niagara Falls: