For A Good Contact High Go To The 4th Floor

Two hockey teams were in the building. For the most part, it wasn’t a bad night. My shift started with a bombardment of rooms wanting towels, blankets, and pillows. I thought about a question that I often have when we have such a full-house; why do people always wait until midnight to realize they need all these extra things?

I already know the answer. People don’t think of those things until they need them. Also, people expect hotels to have what they need, any time of day. Hotels should have those things available, and my hotel is no exception. Unfortunately, I work alone, and I when people request items like towels, toothpaste, and all the other common things we offer upon request, they will be asked to come to the desk to pick those things up. I am not going to run all over the property to deliver extra everything to 71 rooms.

Some people feel inconvenienced when I ask them to come to the desk for towels. I’m sure they expect a room delivery, but this is not a full-service hotel, and we don’t have a houseman or maintenance on site at night. To the individual making the request, it might seem like no-big-deal to expect me to run up to their room, but when there are 71 rooms, and 30 of them call within fifteen minutes asking for extra items to be delivered to their rooms. A simple task like running to a room becomes a major task that takes me away from the desk for entirely too long. If something needs to get done, I have to do it. I also have to be at the desk to answer phone-calls, check people in, and respond to possible emergencies, which by-the-way, I have had more than I care to deal with in the three years I have been doing this job. If someone wants towels at midnight, they can put their pants back on (please) and walk to the desk.

I will leave my desk for a television that won’t work, to fix issues with the heat, and knock on doors to tell people to shut-the-hell-up. I will also walk away from my desk for fresh coffee and a blueberry muffin.

When there are kids in the building between the ages 12-17, there’s going to be noise. Kids will run through the halls, and parents will deny that their kids could possibly be causing the issues. Since every parent in the building has perfect kids, it must be the hockey-kids from the multiverse. Who’s screwing with space-time? Do I need to add Do not open portals to other dimensions on the code of conduct paperwork?

When I receive noise complaints, and the rooms I receive complaints about are filled with hockey-kids, there’s a limit to what I can do about it. I will tell them to be quiet, and I can try to contact their coach, who will usually put an end whatever is going on because the kids might not fear me, but they do fear the coach. It isn’t realistic to make them leave. If they travel away from home far enough to need a hotel, then it should be assumed they don’t have another place to go.

Unfortunately, if I have made every attempt to make your stay more comfortable, and the kids are still pissing-you-off, I’m afraid, you will have to find it in yourself to eat the words that I’m sure you have said to others during times when you couldn’t do anything about something… Sometimes you just have to put up with other people’s annoying shit… The world doesn’t revolve around you… And one of my personal favorites… What do you think I am, omnipotent? (Omnipotent, is a word you have to enunciate when saying out-loud because if you say it wrong, it takes on a whole different meaning.)

A guest staying on the 4th floor called me to complain about an odor.

“Did someone spray something in the hallway? I smell something, and it’s coming into our room. Did you spray something?”

“I’m not sure what the smell is. I can walk upstairs to check, but I am unaware of anything being sprayed.”

“Okay, thank you. I hope it isn’t a bother.”

It was no bother. I got to walk around and yell at, those-darn-kids. Stop running through the hallway! Why are you all shouting? Where do you think you are? Your home? I’m going to be that grumpy old-man who sits on the front-porch yelling at the neighborhood kids… “Get the hell off my lawn!”

I could smell weed as soon as I stepped into the hallway. Here’s a helpful tidbit for you. Spraying your favorite body-spray doesn’t actually mask the weed-odor, it just makes it smell like weed, and body-spray. You smell the two different odors in layers. First, there is the smell of essential oils, followed by the familiar smell of freshly smoked weed. If the combined smells work well enough to make a person question whether or not they smell weed, then the answer is always, yes, you smell weed.

There was no way for me to pinpoint the exact room the odor was coming from, and to be honest, it smelled like it was coming from at least three possible rooms. All I could do was continue scolding people in the hallways. Seriously, folks, I have to tell entirely too many people to put their pants on. I hate to break it to you guys, but you don’t look like the people in the advertisements. You are the reason underwear ads don’t have before and after pictures.

After I had returned to the desk, the phone rang again. It was the lady who complained about the odor. “Did you smell it? What do you think it is?”

“I did smell what you were smelling. Someone was certainly attempting to cover something up. I can’t find the actual source of the smell, so there is little I can do about it. I will make it a point to walk through the hallway tonight.”

“But what is the smell? It smells funny!” I refuse to believe you don’t know what weed smells like. It’s weed. A bunch of kids from your kids hockey-team are getting high. Do you know where your kid is right now? Getting stoned across the hall.

Someone was smoking pot in their room, and they’re trying to cover it up with something. I’m sorry it’s bothering you. If I can locate the exact room, I will do something about it.”

“Like call the police?”

“Well, I’d probably threaten to contact their coach.”

She acted surprised, in-that-way you only see in daytime-soaps. “You think it’s one of our kids? There’s no way!” It wasn’t a bunch of patchouli-wearing-dirty-hippies. They don’t usually wear Axe body-spray. Although, they do, sometimes, also smell like sweaty gym-bags

“The only people on this floor, are people with the hockey teams. I will do my best to deal with it.” Like hope, this is the last time I have to talk to you about this, because I’m not going to kick people out, and it’s not my fault you don’t want to accept your kids smoke pot, and you don’t. Maybe you should. Did you ever think, that perhaps you might just be jealous that your kid, not only smokes but smokes better weed than you did when you were a kid? Did you ever think about it that way? I think you’re just in denial. Now, go face reality, find your kids stash, and roll yourself a doobie!

“Is there any way you can move our room?”

“I certainly can.” But, you will have a better chance of getting a contact buzz, if you stay where you are. “I can move you to a lower floor.”

“Thank you… Are you sure you don’t have other people staying here, tonight?”

“We have lots of other people here. This hotel is filled with, other people. I will go-ahead, and make sure your new room-keys are ready for you when you get to the desk. I hope this improves things for you.”

When she arrived, she was still taken aback by the idea that one of the kids with the hockey-teams could be smoking pot. She didn’t want to believe it.

“Maybe it isn’t any of the kids. Maybe it’s someone else.”

“Like who?” I could tell, that lady loved to gossip. How about I stir-the-pot…

“What if it’s one of the parents? I mean, it seems more likely, right? Like, which of the parents seems to be the most, easy-going, and laughs at things that aren’t funny? I bet that’s who it is. Just watch to see who goes to the vending machine the most often.”

“Oh-my-God! You think it could actually be one of the parents?”

“I have no clue. I only know that it smells like Snoop, is getting ready to cook with Martha, and he’s bringing the brownies.”

I could see from the look on her face that she was already working out a way to spin this possibility into morning gossip while the parents have their coffee and watch their kids, on the ice. “I can’t believe it’s one of the parents.”

“I saw one of the parents vaping earlier. You know what that means… Under-the-radar-stoner.”

“I think I know exactly who that was! Was it a woman?”


“So, it was a guy…”

“When you’ve been to as many Dead-shows as I have, you’d know, just because someone has a beard, it doesn’t automatically make that person a guy.”

“What are you talking about Dead-shows for? Wait, are you saying there is a woman with a beard?”

“At Mountain-Jam, in 2007, I met a woman named Rose, she had a beard like a lumberjack. She also made delicious pancakes.” The lady had a confused expression on her face. “I also remember a bear. Everyone was running away from it, yelling… Hey! That’s a bear!”

“I don’t think I follow.”

“Now I want pancakes. Is there anything else you need? I hope your new room is more comfortable for you.”

“Thank you.” She said, and walked away, more confused than she was moments before.

Free contact high on the 4th floor!



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