A HARD Start To 2015.

Having three days off before, during, and after New Year’s Eve is great for the mind but tough on the wallet. Fortunately, I returned to the hospitality trenches this morning and Fate was waiting for me with three distinctive and unforgettable calls.

CALL #1:

A young couple that epitomized the current dating paradigm. He was a larger-than-life, Italian Alpha male with more cosmetic products than my wife. And one of those “black hole” attitudes that draws anyone in his orbit in – whether they like it or not.

“Hey, Boss, how you doin’? I’m pretty destroyed today, but we can get through this together, right? You know what I’m sayin’, right?”

Not at all… but that never stopped me before. I nodded and we started loading his cart from the doorway. However, the remainder of his luggage was in the far end of the room which meant I had to enter the fun house of the twisted theme park that was this guy’s life. Before I did that, however, he needed to announce my arrival.

“Hey, Baby! Get some pants on, we’re comin’ in!”

Sure enough, we walked into the bedroom portion of the suite and there she was: A raven-haired beauty with an impossibly-tight top covering her thin torso… and no pants. To clarify, though, she did actually have pants on – but they were around her ankles. A pair of black panties with the word “JACKPOT” emblazoned across them kept the entire situation from being x-rated.

Of course, I’m willing to bet that the young lady’s “slot machine” had paid out so often there was no jackpot left to be had.

As for the young lady herself, her head was pointed directly at her phone, her eyes glazed over in that all-too familiar manner. Her man was not amused.

“Come on, Baby! Put that damn thing down, will ya? I swear, you hold that thing tighter than I hold my prick!”

Yes, these two were just lovely. He was raised by the cast of The Sopranos and she couldn’t stop texting long enough to pull her pants up.

Just lovely.

CALL #2: 

Two rooms, two tweens, two toddlers who couldn’t stop climbing my cart like a pair of howler monkeys on crack, two Israeli couples… and one single, super randy, Israeli female.

The female in question was as tall as yours truly, with dyed orange hair and a form-clinging tan outfit to match her locks. Honestly, I paid her no mind as her traveling companions carried luggage out to me (I was too busy continuously removing the little ones from my cart to pay any attention to anything else). And so my lack of focus proved to be my downfall.

With a matter of seconds the following scenario unfolded.

• I bent over to secure my load. (Stop giggling, you perverts.)
• I stood back up and came face-to-face with The Lady in Orange, who was pressed against my left side, her left hand exploring my lower half while a Cheshire Cat smile grew across her face.
• I froze for a moment as I met her gaze.
• She continued to grin and explore.
• A puzzling lack of sensation down below made me realize the young lady was off the mark… to say the least.
• I held up a finger to signal my new friend. (A single digit held in the air is the universal sign for “Please stop groping me for a moment.”)
• A quick trip into my left pocket produced the actual object of my admirer’s ministrations… my large, hard rubber doorstop.
• It was my turn to smile as she backed away laughing.

Amazingly, her entire group remained oblivious to the entire brief affair. I continued with my work while she wrestled with her surprise. In the end, I received a sizable tip and I walked away with another blog-worthy tale.

I love it when almost everyone wins, don’t you?

CALL #3:

By comparison, my last tale is downright boring. My guests were a middle-aged, white couple of even temperament and attitude. They were friendly to me when I arrived and they tipped me first.

So far, so good, right?

Then Mr. WASP handed me an unassuming, small pink bag that I can only assume belong to his spouse.

The bag began to hum like Godzilla on acid as soon as it landed on the cart. They both ignored it during the entire trip, but they were the only ones. I only wish I could have recorded the reaction the buzzing bag provoked in every guest it traveled by. Whenever possible, I quietly shook the bag, careful not to attract attention, but my efforts were in vain. Eventually we reached their truck which was parked on the valet deck and as I handed her the bag, Mrs. WASP addressed the elephant vibrator in the room, as it were.

“Sorry, about that, honey, but when you’ve been married as long as we have, you need a power boost every once in awhile. You understand, right?”

Again.. no. But its not my place to judge, only to chronicle and blog/tweet.

That’s all I have so far this year, friends. See you in the lobby…