Aleve Day

You never quite know what you’re walking into on a Saturday night in my hotel.  On rare occasions it’s quiet, peaceful, and enjoyable.  The norm for a Saturday is pretty hectic, but manageably hectic.  Every once in a while, however, all hell breaks loose.  I call these days “Aleve Days” because I need several to survive the headache the night has caused.  Today was one of those days.

One thing I do not understand is when people still expect something from me after I’ve given, what I believe to be, a definitive answer.

Guy: “I need a menu to Ranalli’s Pizza.”
Me: “I’m sorry I am out of menus.  I can give you the phone number if you’d like.”
Guy: “That doesn’t help me.  I really need a menu.”  (And he looks at me expectantly, like now that I know he really needs a menu I’ll pull one out of my secret menu stash.)
Me: “Well, I don’t have any menus.”

Similiar situations, not involving pizza menus, have been happening all night.  I’m not going into all the crap of the night (fortunately for you), but here are two notable events:

Notable Event #1.)  I was checking in a guest and a group of guys walked over and asked him for his autograph.  I later found out he plays for the Chicago Bulls.  His name is Lafonso Rollins.  He valeted a Bentley.  Why someone who owns a Bentley is staying at my hotel, I have no idea, but he did get a suite.  I guess that’s something.

Notable Event #2.)  A drunk guy with some sort of slurred accent came angrily to the front desk, Security close at his heels.  He wanted to speak to a manager because they would not serve him at the bar.  “As much as I’m paying for this room and I can’t even get a drink at the bar…” was the majority of what I could make out from the man.  My manager talked to him and Security explained there had been a disturbance and this man was asked to leave by the bartender.  Drunk Guy wanted the manager to tell the bartender to serve him.  Illinois law states that if a bartender decides not to serve you, then you don’t get served.  End of story.  Drunk Guy finally went up to his room and I got the whole story.

Apparently there is a European football player sitting at the bar with his friends.  Drunk Guy walks in, and being European himself, recognizes Football Player.  He asks to have his picture taken with Football Player.  During the photo, whether by accident or on purpose I do not know, Drunk Guy grabs Football Player’s balls.  There is a rumor that a lewd comment was also made as the balls were grabbed, but I cannot verify this.  Football Player is about to beat the crap out of Drunk Guy when Football Player’s Friends step in and wisely escort Drunk Guy from the bar.  Drunk Guy comes in minutes later and that’s when the bartender (who had witnessed the previous events) says she will not serve him.

Now Drunk Guy is very angry because the hotel wouldn’t serve him.  He threatened to call the police to which Security responded, “He grabbed some guy’s balls and now he wants to call the police?  Sure, bring ’em on over.”

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(Added later)

My manager just hung with a guest and I had to add this to the stupid questions list.

Guest: “I just got dropped off by a cab.  Can you tell me the number?”
Manager: “The number for the cab?”
Guest: “Yes, I left something in there and I need to call them.”
Manager: “I don’t know what cab you came with.”
Guest: “You can’t just call the cab company?”
Manager: “There are over thirty cab companies in the city.  Do you know which company it was with?”
Guest: “No.  It was a white cab.  It was only ten minutes ago, you don’t know what cab I was in?”

This is just off the top of my head, but shouldn’t you know what cab you were in?