As I compose this message to you, my friends, the day has barely begun; the last remnants of the midnight fog are fading, burned off by the relentless rays of the morning sun. The Sunday morning rush has yet to erupt into a full-blown Chernobyl-level catastrophic event, but that doesn’t mean things are completely uneventful.
Take this departing guest for example: this balding, pasty, slept-with-one-woman-his-entire-life-and married-her-but-she-turned-out-to-be-a-harpy, little white guy had no idea of just what the concept of a vacation should encompass….
“We came here because we wanted to feel right at home, but no one made us feel that way!”
My answer was surgically delivered, designed to cut through the BS and reveal the heart of the matter, “You wanted to feel at home?” I queried, feigning confusion for a moment. “Is your home a one-hundred-million-dollar hotel situated within walking distance of one of Mother Nature’s greatest creations, sir?”
He actually had to think about it, and even then, he wasn’t fully committed to his answer, “Uh.. no?”
“You see, sir,” someone needed to enlighten this poor schmuck and as you know, gentle readers, I live to serve lesser minds,”I can’t say for certain, but I’m willing to bet your house sucks -“
“It does suck! But how’d you know that?”
Trust me, folks, one look at this guy and even a Kardashian would know the score.
“I knew that because you’re a 99 Percenter like me, and our houses, and our lives, for the most part, suck. Between mortgage payments, workplace drama, twerking, unrealized ambitions, Miley Cyrus, erectile dysfunction, Justin Bieber, government shutdowns, mortality, and a genral feeling of hopelessness, we can’t catch a break. So we travel in search of an oasis, a safe haven from our troubles and worries. And that haven, sir, should be NOTHING like home.”
(And yes, I was forced to draw a lungful of breath back into my body after that speech. Not having super powers sucks. By the way, my life doesn’t suck, but my role as a bellman requires I establish a rapport with guests using an artificial truth that places us on a level playing field.)
My lesson slowly sunk in. And when I say, slowly, I mean it; you could literally hear my words make their way through layers of flesh, bone, memories of NASCAR reruns and other snapshots of this poor man’s hundrum existence.
“You know what, boss?” I knew exactly just what my new friend was about to say. If I could adapt my powers to games of chance, I could wipe Vegas out. “You’re pretty smart! I bet you’ve seen a lot, too.” He then made a declaration that, in his mind, was revolutionary, “HEY! You should write a book!”
“Not a bad idea, sir. No one’s ever told me that before.” was the standard answer I’ve used countless times before.
And remember, folks, this was the first call of the day. I can’t wait to see what lies ahead over the next eight hours….
And that’s all for now, friends. For some of you, it is Thanksgiving weekend. For those souls who mark such events with gluttonous feasts and family gatherings guaranteed to degenerate into verbal and sometimes physical, throwdowns… I wish you all the best. You poor bastards.