Hotel Hijinx
Sep 1st, 2010 by Michael
I have been in hotels now seemingly forever. It is a tad different now that the condo has been rented. I am realistically a nomad, so many of my day to day items have been brought in to my hotel room. This makes it a wee bit tighter.
After all, there is part of the room taken up by racing equipment. My toiletry “thing” takes up much of the closet, which results in shoes being double and triple stacked. Sporting equipment? Top shelf of the closet. I even added a mini Christmas tree to at least add some “festive-ness” to the daily existence.
I read the above, and have to laugh at myself. I complain, but then I see Bubbsy (as I have affectionately named him). Bubbsy has been here seemingly as long as I have. He is a big boy, north of the 300lb threshold that requires you to purchase more than one airplane seat. But, multiple times per day, I see him outside, with his weimaraner on a leash and a little tote. Open the tote, and out comes two more dogs, of the dachsund size proportion. I watch him load the dogs in the car, with no more room in his vehicle due to his stuff. It is a pretty nice, new SUV, so I don’t think he is really struggling financially, but I cannot imagine what his room smells like or how claustrophobic it must be.
That being said, I think I would gladly trade to be next to him instead and have some resident dog stink. I can not stand having every possession of mine smelling like an Indian grocery store. I got new towels last week. I leave for the weekend, come back on Monday, grab a new towel, and suddenly after my shower I feel like basmati rice.
I have lamented previously about the distance required to traverse to pitch the garbage on my hotel floor. Instead of hiking that, many of my neighbours have taken to just leaving it in the hallway. That would be fine if the maid always takes it! Anyway, a few weeks back, I saw Bubbsy’s equally girthy brother from another mother bringing his groceries up to his room – on one of the luggage carts. Naturally, such laziness means that he would leave his garbage in the hallway. I walked by a few days later, noticed what was discarded in it (clear bag), and had to go grab my notepad. The contents, you ask?
French onion dip
Chips Ahoy
Bud Light
Diet Dr. Pepper
Pizza box
Can of creamed corn
Pringles
Grapes (uneaten)
So, next time you feel slovenly, you can think of this upstanding member of the local Cardiac Club. And no, that will not stop me from heading off to lunch.
Eagerly awaiting his cholesterol results,
-Michael
