Romance Isn’t Dead… It’s Merely Retarded.

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…

ME:  Dilemma?

NQDP:  No… that’s not it…

ME:  A situation?

NQDP:  No…

ME:  A case against the educational system, your parents and any other adult in a position of authority over you?

NQDP:  H’uh?

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…

About The Hook

Husband. Father. Bellman. Author of The Bellman Chronicles. Reader of comic books and observer and chronicler of the human condition. And to my wife's eternal dismay, a mere mortal and non-vampire. I'm often told I look like your uncle, cousin, etc. If I wore a hat, I'd hang it on a hat rack in my home in Niagara Falls, Canada. You can call me The Hook, everyone else does.
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19 Responses to Romance Isn’t Dead… It’s Merely Retarded.

  1. LOL! Holy moly this trumps any experience I’ve had while housekeeping a couple of years ago! That is far from disturbing, I have to say, and you handled it so well. I can’t even imagine actually being in that situation.

    The worst I ever had to deal with was walking in on people having sex under the covers and I ran out ASAP. They called to complain, but I did knock three times. O.o

  2. Oh my god! If I ever find myself lashed to a bed with luggage straps (never say never I guess) I’ll be sending someone I know to go get sciccors or a knife to cut me free not calling for backup! Love how you were just cool as a cucumber through all this!

  3. Doncha hate it when they leave their sex toys at home.

  4. The Cutter says:

    Dude must have paid attention when they taught knots in Boy Scouts.

  5. “Why haven’t Kardashians been declared weapons of mass destruction?” Too big to crash (probably would bounce anyway)

    (You did wipe your fingerprints off those industrial-grade scissors?…seen far too many horror movies…..and you seem to be living a script)

    Merry on, Hook!

  6. These posts are beginning to make me feel very vanilla.

  7. Loved the story. I can’t imagine not being able to release what was put in place. Oh well you are right. Makes a good story.

  8. He’s lucky you were there to save the day!! So to speak… ha ha! Funny! 😛

  9. curvyroads says:

    Unbelievable…luggage straps. Good call on having HIM cut her loose. 🙂

    Too much merry merry makes a blog-reader late. Merry belated to you and yours!

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