There have been many disturbing travel trends in Niagara of late.
- More toothless hookers than I’m comfortable writing about.
- An upswing in the number of drunken moms on Sunday morning.
- More cheap people in one city at one time than the laws of nature should allow.
People that call for their luggage to be delivered…. then begin having sex, even though they know I’m going to be arriving at their room before they finish. Well, at least I assume they know they won’t have time to finish before I show up. Then again, some people can start and finish a coital encounter in a single elevator ride, so…
At any rate, it’s sad to say but after almost twenty years in the hospitality biz, I’ve gotten used to hearing guests have sex through a thin wooden door. To be clear, the guests aren’t actually having sex through the door… but I can hear them through the door… forget it.
All this wonderful prose was intended to get us to the moment I arrived at Room 2708 at six in the evening on an otherwise uneventful Wednesday night. Despite the unmistakable soundtrack of grunts and groans, I knocked. (I didn’t have time to wait while these folks finished building the Beast With Two Backs. Plus, I’m kind of a jerk that way.)
And so I knocked again.
And I knocked again.
Eventually, my head hurt too much to continue, so I went to the hallway courtesy phone and called the room.
I began to walk away when the door opened. There he stood: a twenty-something, remarkably-toned Bruno Mars wannabe with a grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat green with envy. He was sweaty and gasping for air (naturally). Am I leaving anything out?
Oh yeah… He was pitching a tent.
And no, he wasn’t camping. To be uncomfortably clear, he was clearly (he was asking a lot of the fabric of his track suit ) having sex even though he knew fully well that I was going to be knocking on the door – especially after he had called the Front Desk to order his bags.
But for some inexplicable reason he began to have sex anyway. And so there we stood: Me, the hapless bellman who had to decide which path to follow in terms of dealing with Him, the very over-excited guest. Since we’re talking about me, I’m sure you know which path I chose, right?
HIM: Hey, Boss! How you doin’?
ME: Clearly not as well as you, sir! Where would you like the bags?
What happened next came as no surprise to me. The gentleman wouldn’t let me set foot in the room (i.e. the Den of Sin), preferring to take the bags from me at the doorway. I’ll readily admit, I handed over those bags like Barry Allen on Red Bull; I sure didn’t want to linger in that room any longer than necessary. Finally, all that remained was a garment bag.
HIM: I’ll take that, Boss! (Looking around the room.) But where can I hang it?
Yes, he actually said that.
You just know I wasn’t going to let that one pass me by, right?
ME: Well, the closet’s around the corner, sir, but if you’re in a pinch (nodding down towards his… you know), I’m sure you could figure something out…
He looked down.
He paused while looking at his still-protruding “L’il Guest”.
He turned beet red.
HIM: Uh, yeah… sorry about that, Boss! We were..
ME: You clearly were, sir.
At that point, his raven-haired “girlfriend” emerged from the back of the room. Not that it really impacts our tale, but she was one of the most obvious hookers I’ve ever seen- and she was barely dressed, but unmistakably dressed for sex. To be honest, though, I didn’t give her a long look. (I swear! Not that it didn’t take a lot of willpower.) Besides, after everything I’d been though, I didn’t care about a mostly-naked chick; I had to get going.
And clearly, so did he.
HER: Oh, you sound so classy! Doesn’t he sound classy, honey?
To be fair, the blood had rushed far, far from his brain. Hopefully, that explains why he began to move veryclose to me in order to hand me a tip – and make a final request.
HIM: You won’t tell anyone about this, right, Boss?
ME: (Moving far, far away while remaining completely deadpanned.) I have a blog, sir. But I keep the details murky to protect the guilty.
HIM: (After a nanosecond of pondering.) Oh! That’s okay then!
I love humanity.
See you in the lobby, folks…