I think we call all agree that the two decades I’ve spent in the Niagara Falls hospitality trenches have been anything but boring.
To say the very least.
This, of course, is why I’ll never be foolish enough to proclaim, “I’ve seen it all.”
But there have been time that I’ve come pretty darn close.
It was a typical off-season morning many years ago when the call came in; I was alone at the Bell Desk, pondering life’s really big mysteries:
- Considering all the damage they’ve done to society, why haven’t the Kardashians been declared weapons of mass destruction?
- Why can’t I have a bowl of VampireLover’s homemade chocolate chip cookies for breakfast?
- Why is it that pretty much anyone these days can get a reality show… and I can’t even get CBC to respond to my latest pitch?
My period of self-reflection was soon interrupted by the mechanical tone of the Bell Desk’s voice box and a most articulate request.
“Yeah… uh… can we… like, get a bellhop to Room 1416… in a few minutes?”
The voice was ridiculously-young, faltering past reasonable limits (I honestly think sixty seconds passed), and above all, appeared to belong to someone who had spent the previous night huffing gas fumes. So naturally, I was overjoyed at the prospect of entering Room 1416. After all, where would a blogger such as myself be without society’s “special people”?
And so I arrived at the room in question a mere two minutes later, hopeful for some juicy blog fodder.
I had no idea.
A greasy, slack-jawed, dead-eyed, not-quite-drunk-punk answered the door and proceeded to exceed my every expectation.
NOT-QUITE-DRUNK-PUNK: Uh… yeah… turns out I have a…
NQDP: No… that’s not it…
ME: A situation?
ME: A case against the educational system, your parents and any other adult in a position of authority over you?
ME: Never mind. Why don’t you just tell me what the problem is?
NQDP: (With a youthful enthusiasm that I cannot possibly do justice to here.) Yeah, that’s it, dude! I have a problem… my girlfriend is still lashed to the bed!
Take a moment to let that sink in, friends. I certainly needed to…
ME: Excuse me, sir?
NQDP: Yeah… turns out… we forgot the bag with the handcuffs and other.. sex stuff… so we had to improvise!
Say what you will, but I have to give the little pervert credit for using “improvise” properly. Now it was my turn to speak very slowly, albeit for different reasons.
ME: Okay… so let me get this straight… your girlfriend is still… lashed to the bed? Is that her I hear giggling in there?
LASHED GIRLFRIEND: Yeah! I’m here… can you get me free, Mr. Bellguy?
In an uncharacteristic move, I had to give into the urge and double over with laughter, but only for a moment. NQDP just stood there and laughed a little.
ME: Okay, I’ll see what I can do… but I have a feeling this is a situation better handled by professionals. Like, for example, our maintenance staff… or Dr. Phil.
NQDP: Dr. Phil? I love that dude! But we can’t wait for him! Can’t you do something dude?
ME: Let’s see, shall we?
So I walked in (she had no shame left), and there she was: covered loosely with a pink, stained housecoat and lashed to the bed.
With several pairs of luggage straps.
To this day, I have yet to uncover the specific method NQDP employed to restrain his partner; the luggage straps were wound tighter than should have been humanly possible. (Well, tighter than his girlfriend, that’s for sure, but that’s not saying much, right?)
So to recap: Instead of walking into a situation that should have looked something like this…
(Of course, because this is WordPress, the image I placed here isn’t working. My life sucks.)
I got to walk into a room where a young lady was lashed to the bed with a few of these…
(Again, my life sucks.)
At any rate, she was a remarkably unremarkable young lady: petite, with green eyes, straight dyed crimson locks, an ample, obviously fake chest… and no clue whatsoever.
LG: Think you can help me out, Mr. Bellguy?
ME: Long-term? Not a chance. Now? Sure!
Luckily, housekeeping closets are wonderful places, filled with all sorts of odds and ends like industrial-grade scissors. Against my better judgement, I handed the sharp instrument over to NQDP. Yes, I insisted the young lady’s equally-clueless suitor free her; I didn’t want to be anywhere near her once she began to move freely upon the bed while unclothed. Four snips later, she was free.
I waited in the hall while she dressed herself. We headed down to the car together and I watched as they drove off, giggling all the while. Yes, sometime these tales end with a giggle, not a bang. Though, to be clear, it’s safe to say there was more than one bang in this tale.
See you in the lobby, kids…