And what remains?
Nothing worth writing about, that’s for damn sure.
It should be noted that I am referring to my life as a bellman. The world I live in outside of my role as The Hook has no bearing here.
That’s a different sort of absurdity all-together.
But back to the hotel; today’s tale is relatively brief but fascinating in a “I can’t believe that really happened!” sorta way. Admittedly, I had the family in stitches when I told the story orally (which rarely happens), but since I have a face for radio… so no vlogs for this guy. You shall have to rely on my wordsmithery, folks.
And yes, that’s a word.
So yesterday afternoon I was summoned to Room 4654 in the late mid-afternoon for a check-out. Yes, it was a little late for a check out, but the Front Desk is lenient in the off-season… for the right price. And this particular guest had cash to burn, so he stayed ensconced in his temporary sanctuary until long after his fellow guests had left.
How do I know he had cash to burn? Well, pimps usually do. Once the door was answered by a disheveled, barely-dressed, statuesque brunette and her clone, both of whom had a vacant look in their dead eyes that can only come form literally opening oneself to the deviance of strangers, the picture was pretty clear.
The gals were there to “work”… hard. And he was there to benefit from their labors. Eighteen years of observing humans has made me proficient at determining a traveler’s station in life, so you can trust me when I tell you that this particular black man was the embodiment of the classic pimp archetype.
- The slight scowl, designed to ward off fellow predators, weak girls and Johns who refuse to pay.
- The copious amounts of bling. Seriously, this brother was sparkling!
- A fog machine. (For dancing hookers, a little something extra for the paying crowd, I’m assuming.)
- The cold detachment he addressed the girls with; they were property rather than equals.
We got off to a rocky start. The girls were expecting a cart, not the pasty white bellman attached to it.
“We’re not ready! Can’t you just leave the cart-thingie here, sweetie? We’ll load it… we know all about handling loads!”
Hooker humor. It’s the greatest.
Obviously, I wouldn’t leave the cart but I agreed to wait in the hall while they got themselves
And so they slammed the door in my face and I went down the hall to comfort the housekeeper who was almost in tears at the thought of attempting to restore the room to some semblance of cleanliness. I was my usual comforting self.
“Whatever you do… don’t let any of the housekeeping supervisors bring one of those fluid-detecting lights in there… you may never sleep again!”
Yeah, I’m a people person.
At any rate, the door finally opened again and the pimp in question began loading the cart with, to my amazement, actual luggage rather than plastic bags and laundry baskets. He finished up with the aforementioned fog machine.
And then he brought out a Hoverboard electric scooter – black, naturally. He boarded it and simply stood there while waiting for the girls. After five full minutes of having him stare at me while scooting back and forth slightly I had had enough.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t take you seriously while you’re on that thing! All I can hear is the servos on that thing as you’re moving back and forth!”
He appeared to be slightly surprised and maybe even a little hurt.
“What, Robert? You mean you don’t like my board? It rocks! Hey, bitches… get out here and let’s get goin’! Robert doesn’t like my board!”
Looks like I wasn’t the only people person, right? Despite his “charm”, the girls weren’t ready, so he scooted off to the guest elevators. (I really wish I could get comfortable vlogging; I can duplicate the mechanical whir of his Hoverboard perfectly. It really was all you could hear in the hallway.)
You should have seen the look on the faces of the old white couple in the elevator when The Pimp backed into the elevator on his board. I thought they were going to call 911 on their cellphones when they got a load of this guy.
And it got better.
We got to the lobby and he sped off in a blaze of mechanical whirring! The old folks and I just looked at each other with wide-eyed wonder.
“What can I say, folks? Welcome to my world!”
I met up with The Pimp at his vehicle on the Valet Deck and that’s when things got truly surreal.
He loaded the entire car without leaving the Hoverboard once.
Just think about that for a moment, folks. These things are basically deathtraps on wheels if you’re not stable and yet, The Pimp loaded every suitcase into his trunk and backseat without getting off his board once. I just stood there, the mechanical whirring digging into my addled consciousness. He finished up, scooted over to me, handed me a tip and inquired as to the whereabouts of his “lady friends” in stereotypical pimp fashion:
“Now where those bitches be at? I gots to go!”
Yes, this really happened just as I’m describing it and yes, he was setting his people back a few decades, but who cares? What would any of our lives be without absurdity?
Damn boring, that’s what.
See you in the lobby, kids…