To be honest, I hate this page.
Ever since I started to erode the standards of the world-wide web by starting a blog several years ago, this page has been a source of embarrassment and personal shame. I’ve never felt comfortable providing a worthy A to the biggest Q of them all.
Who am I?
And can you blame me? After all, it’s the ultimate question isn’t it? That, and “Why are we here?” And of course, “What did we ever do as a race to deserve the Kardashians?” Oh, and “Who wrote the Book of Love?” and “What the hell is really going on with Trump’s hair anyway?”
But getting back to me, (since, you know, this is my blog), I was the stereotypical shy, pasty, retiring white kid who always had his nose buried in a book.
A comic book.
Comics directed the course of my life. They taught me to look beyond the physical world, to follow my dreams and to value the lives of others.
Ironically, that quiet kid grew up to become the world’s most outspoken bellman. How outspoken, you ask?
“I’m sorry, was I NOT supposed to tell the guest his hairpiece looked like a poodle died on his head? His wife agreed.” – Day One of my career as a bellman.
Being a bellman requires more than a few people skills, a loud voice at times and plenty of ingenuity. Every day brings a new challenge; if you can’t adapt quickly, you’ll be bowled over. Sometimes literally.
The North American hospitality industry is composed of two separate, yet woefully unequal groups: the hordes of travelers who leave a trail of devastation in their wake, and the poor bastards who serve them.
These are their stories.
But they’re also mine.
As a bellman, I’m the guy you don’t pay attention to; the one in the corner of the room, unloading your luggage, i.e., laundry baskets, garbage bags and pillows. I’m always watching, observing, picking apart your behavior, which is usually fascinating – and sometimes, disturbing. I call Niagara Falls, Canada, my home, but I’m a citizen of the world, connected to every corner of the globe through the experiences of others.
And you’re welcome to come along for the ride.
As I always say:
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. What happens in Niagara Falls? That goes on my blog.”
As for my “civilian life”, I’m a husband, a father, a friend to at least ten unlucky souls, a victim, a survivor, an obsessive tweeter (I’m happy to report that William Shatner, among others, has blocked me), a failed author, TV pitchman (CBC hates my guts) and I currently occupy Number ten on the FBI’s “Who Cares About These People?” list.
Occasionally, I’ll sleep. But not often.
As for this little slice of blogging Nirvana, you’ll notice some postings that deal with subjects other than my life in the hospitality trenches, like Vampires Ruined My Marriage!, which they did.
After 21 years of marriage my wife has become obsessed with the young, handsome, undead bloodsuckers of Twilight and The Vampire Diaries. Of course, she has had to put up with my love of comics and sci-fi, which by the way, has spread to my young daughter.
In your face, wife!
You may think me harsh, but as a husband, there are precious few victories under my belt, so I have to gloat when I can. Plus, I’m kid of a jerk.
That’s all for now. I’ll let you know if I evolve at all.
(Hey, it could happen.)
See you in the lobby, kids…