What A Strange Night


I walked in to work and almost immediately, people started returning from a wedding reception, searching for a special room they were supposedly promised. I can tell you from experience, every time we have wedding groups staying at this hotel, I get people who are already drunk, obnoxious and they claim they arranged for us to let them use the conference room. Every time this happens, I am never given information about it by my boss. There is never a note in the log book informing me to let them use the meeting room, and the person who I relieve from second shift never tells me anything about it. The guests always insist they were promised a private room, but the meeting room is always filled with equipment left by the company using the hotel to sell vacation packages to their customers, and I cannot let drunk people in that room and risk anything happening to those computers, and printers.

I always tell the people that they are more than welcome to use the dining room. They always keep argue with me, expecting me to cave, and let them in the meeting room. The following day I always express my frustration with this, and the manager always tells me that the guests were never promised the meeting room, but they were told they could use the dining room. It’s telephone game again. You tell someone something, and as they repeat what they heard, what was actually said is always altered, and the information is always confusing in the end. Whenever this happens, I tell people they can use the dining room, no problem, and they always act like they are getting screwed out of something, but they always use the dining room anyways. It’s best that they use that area so they don’t make noise in their rooms. I guarantee you, nobody promised them the meeting room.

At midnight, one of my late arrivals walked in. He was shocked to see all of the people in the dining room getting drunk, and talking over each other. His room was located just down the hall from the dining room, and he refused to stay. The hotel sold out, so I had no room to switch him to, and I had to find him, and his wife, another hotel for the night. The man was very decent about the whole issue, and told me he would mention to the manager that I was very helpful to him.

Luckily, someone walked in looking for a room. I told him the regular rate, but offered him the AAA rate, which is $10 cheaper. The guy insisted that I lower the rate, because it was a two queen room, and he was the only person using it. I told him we don’t base the rate on how many people stay in the room, and our single king rooms are the same price as the two queens. He took the room anyways, and it’s a good thing, because he was clearly intoxicated.

As far as my past experiences go, the people using the dining room were actually very tolerable. Yes, they were talking over each other, but they were all happy, laughing, and being reasonable considering they were all wasted. I don’t blame the one guest for not wanting to stay, and I am happy I was able to help him get a different hotel, and I didn’t have to charge him for the night. After 6 pm you can’t cancel your room without getting charged the night, but I always get walk-in’s, so there really was no reason not to let him cancel, and honestly, there is no reason a guest should have to tolerate drunk people who want to party all night.

A man in his early 30’s approached my desk. He asked…

“How many sitcoms have you come up with while dealing with people here all night?”

We laughed, and I told him I could write a sitcom about most of my job. (Note to self. Write sitcom, with Luna as the hysterical villain that everyone loves to hate.) As we laughed about the night, he suddenly started telling me bits about the wedding reception, only it was all out of context, and it seemed like he was starting a thought in his head, and finishing it out loud. Typical stoner.

“Weddings like this, they just… (blank stare into empty space)… You know, I think Stevie Ray Vaughn’s “Lenny” is a perfect song to get emotional to… (blank stare into empty space)… So they told me to stop and reflect… (blank stare into empty space)… I ended up stepping outside, intoxicated, and ya know, stoned. I mean, working, and stuff… fuck that shit, ya know?… (blank stare into empty space)… it’s good to get away and relax every once in a while.”

The man stood there for a moment, and tears started rolling down his cheek. My phone rang, and he walked away. Wow.

Moments later, the same man came back, and he looked concerned, and a bit shocked.

“They know my name.”

“Who knows your name?”

“They do.” Pointing at the people in the dining room.

“Aren’t they supposed to know your name?”

“No. I am with a different wedding. How do they know my name? This is kind-of scary.”

“Maybe you introduced yourself earlier, but forgot.”

“No, I would remember that… How do you do this job, and keep so cool?”

“I write about it all in a blog. People love it. You should have been here for the naked biker pool party. They were all retired cops.”

The guy stared at me for a moment. It was obvious he was trying to figure out if I was serious, then he laughed.

“Oh, man. I almost thought you were serious.”

“Yeah… I’m a real joker.”

A slightly younger guy approached me with his mother. And the stoner walked away again. The new guy said…

“So, uh, we came here for a wedding, and my aunt fell down, and broke some bones in her leg.”

“Here?”

“No, earlier. We just left the hospital, and all we want is to get her to bed. Do you have a wheelchair here?”

“I’m sorry. We don’t.”

They figured I would say that, and they walked away. Suddenly I saw the doors open, and they had a little old lady sitting on a luggage cart, and they wheeled her past my desk, and put her on the elevator.

At 4:30 am, the people in the dining room cleaned up after themselves, and went to bed. Not my stoner buddy, he was locked out of his room, because his sister used the deadbolt on the door, so he sat in the lobby telling me about how much he loves cannabis, and wishes he had his friends vape pen. He also told me all about his epilepsy, and how cannabis makes his medications unnecessary. Eventually, Luna walked in the building as he was asking me if I had any pot. I started laughing at the shocked look on Luna’s face, and I said…

“Hey, Luna. You should go out to your car and get this guy stoned.”

She got defensive very quickly.

“I don’t have any pot.”

“Right. I get ya.”

I gave her an exaggerated wink, then I smiled at her. She shook her wide-eyed head, and walked away. Most of the wedding guests who I thought went to bed, came back down to smoke outside. My stoned buddy joined them. As they came back in, one of them asked what time check out time will be. I reminded her check out is at 11am. She looked at the clock on the wall. It said 5 am.

“Can I get a late check out?” She said.

“Are you part of our rewards club?”

“No.”

“We only offer late check outs to our rewards members.”

“I can’t get a late check out then?”

I opened the reservation screen and asked for her name. After I opened the reservation, I asked if her email address was the same as what we had on file. She confirmed it. That’s all I needed, and it took a second to get her rewards number. I printed her confirmation, handed it to her, and said…

“I can give you a 1 pm check out.”

“What does this get me?”

“You now get late check outs without being told no, you earn points for free stays every time you stay at one of our hotels. You can request early check in times, and request an upgrade to a suite when you check in as long as the rooms are available.”

“Holy shit, really?”

“Yup. So, 1 pm check out then?”

She nodded and walked to the elevator. I love doing that. It’s a great way for me to get people to sign up for the rewards program, and I earn points with every person I sign up, allowing me to get free hotel rooms in the future, or I can go on the corporate website, and buy stuff with the points.

At 5:30 am I received a call from a man in room 412.

“There’s a guy sleeping in the hallway outside of room 411. I’m not sure what you can do about that, but it’s freaking out my wife.”

I told the man in 412 I would take care of it. I saw my stoner buddy on the floor when I reached the 4th floor. He was passed out, wearing sunglasses, missing a sock, and both shoes. I spoke to him, and asked if he was alright. He was baked.

“Is your key not working?”

“She has the deadbolt locked, and the door won’t open.”

“Alright, I will go to my desk and call the room to see if she will open the door for you. Please get off the floor, you’re scaring people.”

“Oh, man. I’m so embarrassed.” He was too stoned to be embarrassed, and mobile.

I went back to my desk and called 411. His sister answered.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so early, but your brother is having difficulty getting in your room, and he is currently sleeping in front of your door.”

“How long has he been there?”

“I watched him leave the lobby about a half hour ago.”

“Alright, I’ll drag him inside.”

“Thanks.”

Problem solved. Then there’s Luna. She is being nice. To me. Luna is being nice to me. She asked me how I feel today, and smiled. I had shivers running up and down my spine. She offered me a cinnamon bun! I bet it was a cinnamon bun of death. She was clearly trying to gain my trust with sugary treats so she can poison me. I am now on a diet. It’s an only food I make for myself diet.

How are these people still awake? How do they have the energy to return to the dining room for food, and chitchat? Were they drinking vodka and red bull all night?

What a weird night.

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