Listen to this story: If you’re in the car, or cooking, or just lazy… you can listen to me read this story for you, in the audio file below.
“When we go downstairs for breakfast, can we play hotel?” This is what our daughter says every morning right now. Also, “Pause game! I want to kiss you.” Or, “Pause game! I want to give you a hug… Okay, game’s back!”
I’m the hotel manager. I wrote a breakfast menu, complete with prices and weekend specials. Our daughter made money, with paper and green marker, and likes to pay with large bills. She dropped a 300 one recent morning and picked up her brother’s tab, too. He says he’s the hotel C.E.O., but he bears a striking resemblance to one of our longtime guests, and I suspect he’s just in the job to use the amenities.
I was reminiscing with my eldest brother recently about how breakfast was served in the motels we used to stay in on vacation as kids. You had to fill out a menu card before the end of the night, checking boxes for the items you’d like, and hang it on your door handle outside. In the morning breakfast would be delivered at the time you’d selected, sometimes through a slot in the wall. The toast always a bit too cold, the milk a bit too warm. Still, I think my kids would get a real kick out of that system.
For much of my later childhood, with both parents working, our house was like one of those “no reception” type hotels; where you get a room, but have to take care of yourself. I’d fix my own breakfast and read the back of the cereal box while I ate, or on a good day, flick through the newspaper. Not much has changed, I still like to eat my breakfast that way.
Last week we were short-staffed here at the hotel. The assistant manager was out of town again. I’m often Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, as my mother used to say. Handling every facet of the hotel, not just the lobby restaurant. Still, the orders must be met. Changes to the standard menu items are often requested, which we begrudgingly allow – like any respectable establishment.
Shoelessness is rampant. Personal hygiene a constant battle. The dress code somewhat of a joke, but No Shirt, No Service is sacrosanct. Fights over the TV in the common area are a regular disturbance. The screen ping-pongs between superheroes, goofy cartoons, sports highlights and adorable pups, until final preparations for the day ahead must be made. Out in the world. Away from the comforts of such lodgings.
Our daughter, who’s staying in the Penthouse apparently, tells me she’ll be checking out for a while over Spring Break, but we should anticipate her return straight after. What a coincidence. I hope she enjoys our trip.
Writing this had me hearing the Willie Nelson song “Home Motel” in my head, in that strange way where you can’t quite figure out the song your remembering. Eventually I did. So here it is, with his sister Bobbie (R.I.P.) offering the piano intro. I hope my kids never feel the way the song’s narrator does, but I love some Willie Nelson!
Sounds like a great game and those guests just keep on turning up!.