The Window Lickers. The Stupids. The Inbred Morons. Call them what you will, but encountering the folks who stumble about to the beat of their own psychotic drummer is the best part of being a bellman.
The Specials can take an otherwise nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile. They’re not Mary Tyler Moore… but they’re all right.
The younger readers are ridiculously-confused right now, but they’ll catch up.
Take the two young ladies I met this week. Please… take them… now. They were the typical best friends: the thin, towering, blonde-in-a-bottle bombshell, with perfect teeth, make-up, and hair, wrapped in designer clothes and a fur coat.
And her dumpy, slightly-overweight, but incredibly-nice, raven-haired friend.
They had one trait in common: excellent taste in perfume.
ME: Well, I guarantee this is the sweetest-smelling room I’ll visit all day!
RAVEN: Why is that? Do your rooms normally smell bad?
ME: We have a hockey tournament here this weekend… what do you think?
RAVEN: Oh yeah, hockey equipment smells like death, doesn’t it?
ME: And sometimes hockey players smell even worse! But this room smells great!
BLONDE BOMBSHELL: That’d be us, honey!
And with that declaration, she moved toward me, pulling her coat slightly open and craning her neck.
BB: Here, check out this scent!
As you know, it takes a lot to phase me, so I leaned forward and took in a healthy breath of her overpriced aroma. It nearly floored me, but I have to admit, it was heavenly.
BB: Nice, right? And I have it all over my body! (She punctuated her point by running her hands down her statuesque form and moving in even closer to me.)
ME: I’m going to take your word for it… you seem like a trustworthy, honest young lady.
BB: Honest and trustworthy? No… I’m a naughty girl! You may want to check for yourself!
The best part? She appeared to be dead sober – and she was sporting a Catholic cross.
This time I stayed quiet. (Yes, it actually happens from time to time.) Her friend could sense my apprehension – I’m certain she was used to it – and so she intervened.
RAVEN: Don’t mind her, Robert! (I really want a nametag that reads “The Hook”.) She’s a terrible flirt!
ME: A terrible flirt? Actually, miss… she’s quite good at it!
They each needed a moment to process my comment. You could almost hear it penetrating the layers of trivial, Kardashian-obsessed thoughts surrounding their brains. Finally, my wit – such as it is – hit paydirt.
TOGETHER: Oh! You’re hilarious, Robert!
BB: (Still giggling.) Are you sure you don’t want to smell me? Lower down, I mean… I don’t mind at all!
ME: Thanks, but I’m good. Thank you for the blog fodder, though.
Yes, every once in awhile I reveal the existence of this blog to guests. So far everyone has responded favorably.
RAVEN: You write a blog? That’s so cool! What do you write about?
I just pointed to the young lady and her bubbly friend.
BB: Well… if you’re going to write about us, you might as well spice it up.. you can say you did us both! Just be sure you make it wicked hot!
RAVEN: (Pondering for a moment.) Yeah, that’s all right, I guess… just don’t use our real names! And make me thinner!
BB: Why? You’re not fat… you’re full-figured! With big boobs!
Is it any wonder why I write a blog in the first place?
ME: (Answering though my own laughter.) I’m afraid I don’t write a blog about my sexual escapades, ladies… I’m not into fiction! And your friend’s right… you’re not fat at all, young lady… you’re both quite stunning.
BB: You’re so sweet! Are you sure…
Even Stevie Wonder could see where this was going.
ME: I’m sure, ladies! But thanks for the offer!
BB: Well… just take a raincheck! We’ll be just as slutty the next time we’re here!
Do you see why I love the Specials so much?
See you in the lobby, kids…