Another hotel story.

by | Dec 14, 2016 | Blog, Culture | 0 comments

Sometime in the early evening last night I was disrupted by my ‘neighbor’ who through these paper thin walls blared his radio/TV.  I called down to the front desk for assistance.  She called the room, came down and banged on the door all to no avail.  She called me back and told me the occupant was unresponsive. Little did she know that no truer words would be spoken? This went on until about 10:30 or so.  My melatonin kicked in and off to sleep I went.

Abruptly at 2:30 am I heard a frantic banging on a number of room doors and ultimately an attempt to enter my room.  The door knob was pulled and yanked and I could see the shadow of footsteps outside.  Then it stopped. Through the peephole, I saw it was a woman.  It became quiet for a bit and then heavy coughing, whining and more frantic attempts to enter a room.  I once again called the front desk.  I explained what was happening and this poor little clerk said she would come and check it out.  I told her to be careful and I waited.

Time slowly passed and I heard more scuffle, then silence. Perfect silence.

In the morning I spoke with the front desk clerk and we shared our perceptions and experiences of the night before.  The person outside my room in a frantic state was a totally naked young woman. After all the noise and excitement, she was passed out, hence the silence.  She had attempted to gain entry to the hotel ‘kitchen area’ looking for a snack, Fruit Loops—naked?  Really?

She had no idea which room she was in, hence the frantic banging and attempted entry to any room including my room. The night clerk wrapped her in a sheet and together they determined where her room was.  She issued the now sheet wrapped woman a new key (since she had no clothes on, she was not carrying one) and off she went.

The questions flooded my mind:

  1. Did you not realize when you left your room in search of the Fruit Loops that you were buck naked?
  2. What the hell happened to you to put you in that state?
  3. Better yet, were you with the man in room 126 doing Lord knows what and that’s why he did not hear the night clerk banging on the door to turn down his music?

You cannot make this up. Is there a moral of the story?  Nothing, I’ve got nothing and I am finally speechless. This was a first.

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KarenHello and welcome.
I am often asked, “What is Pasta on the Floor?”
Pasta on the Floor is different for everyone. It is a recipe that tells a story and inspires them to try something new. For others, stories of family, joy, loss, and hope engage with them. This brings me a great deal of happiness. I do not take myself too seriously, so be forewarned the subject matter is open and truthful. In many ways, Pasta is a tale of life, and I think you will find familiarity and commonality as you scroll through these pages.

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