DON'T ASK THE BELLBOY
ABOUT COSMIC THINGS
Just because he's neat and natty, doesn't
mean he knows a thing. Other than,
maybe, as a concierge, or someone
who knows were to get delivery after
2am, or where your pants are, or how
you look from behind. With his hand
out, of course, that's the sort of things
these fellows notice, and work for.
Fancy, rich-ass hotels are all alike. He
might do you favors, but needs something
in return. And please don't bring your
daughter down where he can see her.
Just too much that goes on for any of
that to be worth it. You read about it all
the time, and this ain't Kansas anymore.
You can get the Paris papers at the desk,
and the Metro editions of any city paper.
Except, of course, they don't do that
anymore. People barely read : I can
remember, 40 years ago, when the New
York Rimes printed twice a day, the
morning edition, and the afternoon.
As events warranted and matters changed,
they'd recompose the paper to update all
the stories and often even change the lead.
No more. First off, no one cares, but more
like I said, no one reads. Things change
constantly and they all look at screens.
Screen-feeds are real-time, like the bellboy's
needs. I mentioned to keep your daughter away?
I hate to read both tragedy and crime together.
Maybe one without the other I can take. But,
if it goes bad, and someone dies, that really
breaks me up. Like kidnapped daughters from
Albuquerque who get taken down, kidnapped
or raped, and left for dead at the bottom of
some crummy stairwell that only the service
people know. See what I mean? Bellboys
and insiders always on the prowl.
So, don't let anything out of your sight, kids
and wives included, I guess. They even get
into your rooms when you're not around, so
watch the cash and jewelry. Insider stuff
abounds. I know, I used to work in that
racket. Big-time city hotel glomming of
things : people are always due somewhere
else; they can't away around for results or
investigation, and the hotel cops are creeps
as well. Like bank dicks in a safe-deposit box.
If I were anyone so naive, I'd pick a crummy
Holiday Inn, and somewhere else. Mostly, there,
they're just too dumb to get all this stuff going,
and corporate is always breathing down their
neck too. Who wants to lose the franchise?
Know what I mean. It happens, all too often.
And it's always the ladies with the big bowl
of showy jewels, they're the worse. Loud and
bossy and cheap to boot. They think they can
push a servant guy around just to show their
worth. They forget they're only worth as much
as they are when they leave, not when they
arrive. There's a justice there. Real monkey
business; 'cept they're the monkeys.