Hook Headquarters, located somewhere in the bustling metropolis of Niagara Falls, is actually one hundred years old. So yes, it’s almost as old as Kris Jenner…
As such, the wiring in my home was due to be overhauled decades ago. But it wasn’t. So when we moved into our house fourteen years, it fell to the wife and I to spend the cash to ensure our home would never go up in flames after a knob-and-tube connection shorted out. There was just one problem: fourteen years ago we were hardly in the black, to say the least.
A decade-and-a-half later (almost), we’ve decided to bite the bullet and ensure our home doesn’t become a ginormous hunka, hunka burnin’ love. (Yes, the Elvis reference was for the wife, thank you very much.) And so we’ve had a team of electricians bring us into the 21st century at last.
Fun Fact: Our electrician informed us the house was built before electricity was installed!
No wonder we love Murdoch Mysteries so much.
By now you’re no doubt wondering what the point of all this seemingly-pointless sharing is, right?
As part of the process of making room for the electricians to do their job (which, by the way, was a helluva big job), the wife and I were forced to literally clean house. We moved pieces of furniture that hadn’t been touched by human hands for years (much like Kris Jenner’s lady parts, no doubt) and then we gasped at the dust bunnies the size of Godzilla that were waiting for us. And when we got to our walk-up, full-sized-yet-unfinished attic, we realized just how much “stuff” (not the word I used, by the way) we’ve accumulated in fourteen years.
But we cleared out the junk. We parted with the sentimental pieces left by my father-in-law. We donated whatever we could to Value Village. And then we had to move everything that remained into a space that is a quarter of the total size of the attic itself. And then I had to sweep up enough dust/insulation/debris to result in a scene like this:
As we moved the last few pieces of Christmas decorations (incidentally, we own enough X-Mas decorations to cover the White House), we uncovered one final surprise: A hundred-year-old door.
Now, on the surface, this may not seem like a discovery worthy of Indy Jones, and truthfully, it certainly wasn’t, but it got me thinking. Yes, I do that sometimes. Shut up.
Doors separate the madness of the outside world (i.e. the guests) from the hotel, though not for long. Sooner or later, travelers will make their way through the hotel’s sliding doors or one of the two $250,000 revolving doors we installed for some inexplicable reason. The revolving doors’ sensors are, well… too sensitive, and so they stop every. five. seconds. And yes, it gets old fast and people flip out immediately.
Doors separate the Luggage Room from the rest of the hotel, allowing my colleagues and I to take refuge in a dirty, cold room made of concrete and exposed pipes. I liken it to Eric Foreman’s basement but without the freezer filled with Popsicles, sadly. In spite if it’s lack of ambience, the Luggage Room is a suitable refuge; the conversations that take place within it keep us sane, though you wouldn’t believe that if you heard some of the things bellmen talk about when they think the world isn’t listening…
Speaking of the Luggage Room, there are actually five doors that connect my “Hook Cave” to the hotel. Of course, that means my home-away-from-home is like a sitcom, where a wacky neighbor or stranger is constantly appearing for a moment to entertain the “audience” before heading outside, into the lobby or onto one of two elevators to the South Tower.
Doors separate the public washrooms from the masses, and many guests will take advantage of this by using a corner stall or even a counter to fornicate.
Once again, I don’t need to tell you that you read that line correctly, do I? Expect the unexpected in my world, folks.
Doors are portals to other worlds, like Laundry or Housekeeping, where the adventures are of a decidedly-different flavor, but no less epic in their own way.
Guest room doors play the most important role of all in my adventures as The Hook. Every time I step through a door a mystery is about to be solved.
- “Were these guests having sex before I arrived, as seems to be the case far too often these days?”
- “Are these guests nuttier than the proverbial fruitcake?”
- “Will I discover some delicious blog fodder when I cross this particular threshold?”
- “Can the noises I hear be emanating from children or has someone opened a small zoo in the hotel?”
- “Why does it smell like a zombie horde has gathered in this room? I mean, I know hotel bathrooms are horribly-under-ventilated, but this is ridiculous!”
And the most important question of all…
“Will I get tipped or stiffed by these guests?”
So as you can see, doors are at the center of my universe. I hope you’ve enjoyed my musings. And don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll have a thick, juicy guest rant for you the next time we meet.
And just in case you’re wondering just what knob-and-tube wiring looks like:
Fascinating, yes? Well, just imagine this running through – and powering – your entire house. Once again, I cannot overstate how big a job this was; 90% of our home was knob-and-tube which meant the electricians removed enough wiring to circle the globe twice. Or something like that. I don’t have exact figures…
Well, I’m out of here. Time to figure out which organ I’m going to sell in order to pay for this home renovation.
See you in the lobby, kids…