The request appeared simple enough when the hotel’s switchboard operator conveyed it over the crackling line.
“Go to Room X, pick up a package and deliver it to Room Y.”
Of course, as you already know full well… NOTHING is simple when you’re the bellman known as The Hook…
ME: You’re certain the young lady in Room Y won’t mind be disturbed at eight am, sir?
HIM: Nah, you’re good! She’ll be up and about! Just take these roses and make her day!
He was one of those stereotypical Texans who slap you on the back and call you “Boy”. A lot. I disliked him immediately but I respected his zest for life.
One wonky elevator ride later (what is it with technology today?), I’m on the floor, in front of her door, holding a ginormous vase overflowing with roses and a sickeningly-sweet teddy bear and I’m knocking… and knocking… and knocking.
Finally, the door opens and since I happen to be looking down anyway, I notice a growing puddle of water on the carpet…
“Oh! Sorry, but I was in the shower!” (Giggling all the while.)
Naturally, I looked up with a perplexed look that evolved into an awkward smile when I came face-to-chest with a middle-aged female with dripping wet blonde locks and a towel pressed against – not wrapped around – her quivering form.
“Are those for me? (Still giggling.) You can come right in, hon!”
Actually, I couldn’t. And I told her so.
“No? But I don’t mind at all!” (The towel appeared to be fluttering even though there was no breeze. Unless you count my rapid breathing.)
A little vintage Julie Newmar for the boys and girls…
ME: Tell you what, Miss, why don’t you go back in the bathroom and let me know when you’re there. Then I’ll come in, drop the flowers, and then I’ll get the hell out of here!”
That actually went over well.
“Oh, you! I’ll do whatever you say! You’re hilarious!”
Yeah, I’m a laugh riot.
Off she went. The towel didn’t move from its frontal position, by the way, although I kept my eyes diverted from her derriere. (It was perfect.)
“Okay, Hon! I’m where you want me!”
ME: Great. The flowers are next to the TV. I’m out of here, miss.
“Are you sure?”
ME: More than I’ve ever been. At least you’ll have a great story to tell, right?
“It could have been better, but yeah!”
Another satisfied (sorta) guest.
And that was my morning. How was yours?