“Boy, That Was Quick!”

And yes, that is what she said.

And it’s also what you’re going top be thinking after reading this one, friends. Incidentally, assuming I’ve done my job correctly, you’ll also be thinking:

“Well, at least that was so hilarious my coffee shot out my nose! The Hook owes me a new laptop – again!”

This post was born from the human catastrophe known as Passover, one of the Jewish religion’s most sacred and widely observed holidays. However, you’d never guess it if you stood in the lobby with me and observed – with wide eyes – the carnage and madness that comes about when you put hundreds of Jewish families together in one hotel. One thousand rooms spread across three towers is not enough to contain thousands of Jews filled with religious fervor. 

And no, I’m not being anti-Semitic, I’m simply stating an all-too real, sobering fact of a bellman’s life. I love Jewish folk; most are hard-working, ridiculously-decent, family-minded folk who walk around with a beaming smile on their faces.

But there are those among them who transform Passover from a sacred holiday to a traveling circus. When I deal with these folks, Passover is madness incarnate. They switch Passover into Murphy’s Law incarnate.

On the other hand, thanks to these individuals, Passover is a great opportunity for me to… well, be me, simply put.

The Set-up: A lobby full of guests of every variety – and hundreds of Jewish families. Oh, and a million screaming children, their voices merged into one seemingly-never-ending war cry. The phone at the Bell Desk is ringing – as it has for an hour straight. A guest approaches me to retrieve his luggage. At that exact moment, despite seeing me obviously overwhelmed, a young Jewish mother walks up to my desk, baby stroller full of boxes of food in tow (I kid you not!), glances at the weather report we leave out for guests and asks me,

“You know what the weather is going to be tomorrow?”

My next course of action was obvious. I would’ve been a fool to let this moment pass me by. With a tone that was as straight as Charlie Sheen at a Vegas porno convention, I answered her.

“Sandstorm. With a chance of locusts, miss.”

In retrospect… I had no choice, really.

My guest (a Gentile) simply broke into raucous laughter and walked away, knowing I was going to meet him at his room anyway. Where, by the way, he tipped me extra for the biggest laugh of his life. The Jewish mom simply stared at me. It was obvious I was going to have to do a little damage control – but I was more than cool with that.

“You see, miss, the weather report is right there… though to be honest, I pay little attention to it. The weather can change in an instant… so the best thing to do is wake up, step over your kids, navigate your way around all the boxes of food you’ve brought with you and simply look out the window.  That weather report will never lie to you, miss.”

She remained both motionless and emotionless. But I was still  overwhelmed so I headed out and left her standing there to ponder her first encounter with The Hook, world’s most outspoken bellman.

And no, I wasn’t called down to HR, so once again, it’s all good.

See you in the lobby, kids…