Apr 1, 2005

Lemon curry?

But it's my only line!

*boo hiss* Yes I know, the worst way to make someone laugh is to put some genuinely funny material, especially stuff that has a historical value, in with your not-so-funny stuff, in the hopes that somehow it'll all turn out good. Witness "The Real Gilligan's Island." I rest my case, yerhonor.

I can't think of the name of the cruise line, and even if I could I wouldn't post it here, because I'm alergic to product placement and name dropping, but anyway there's a bunch of boat people whose tagline implies that if you go sailing with them in one of their big white metal dingies you'll "be treated famously." You've seen the commercials, where ordinary people tell friends and family and complete strangers things like "My butler knew exactly how I took my tea" and "I was to be awoken precisely at 6 am for my sunrise walks" and "My houseboy knew exactly where to touch me to..." well, you get the picture.

I was treated famously the other day, and wanted to share. And I won't go into depth, because I keep feeling like I'm gloating, which I'm not. This is more sort of a deep sigh of relief.

My new company loves it's employees. And I mean that, deeply and sincerely. So do they. I've been working with them for two weeks now, and was sent to Baton Rouge (about an hour and a half away) for an orientation seminar. I can see this, I work in the medical profession now, and am surrounded by sensitive patient data, and the gov and HIPPA are violently against this information being used the wrong ways, so orientation for the noob is a good thing.

My wife and I were put up in a suite at the Marriott.

I know, I can hear the collective letting-out of breath already. Not a big deal I hear you say. I've been bathed by nymphs in the Ritz, you say. Okay, whatever. I've never stayed in anything nicer than "Billy Bob's Kut-Rate Drive-Thru Motel And BBQ Shak," so this was quite an experience for me.

And I'm not going to go into excruciating detail, I mean let's face it, it's just a hotel, a room for rent, but it was the little things that you don't get in a HoJos that made me perk up and take notice. The bathroom, fer instance. Standard equipment, soap and handtowels and a toilet. The bar of soap was not one of those microscopic ones that you usually get in a hotel, the one that slips out of your hand and down the sink drain and then you've gotta wash your hair with Colgate toothpaste. They thoughtfully provided shampoo, which everyone does, but also conditioners and a tiny bottle of what I think was hair gel. On a little silver salver. The floor was marble tiles. High polished, no less. Even the door-sill was marble.

The stand-issue television set was housed in a pretty armoire, which I recognise from nursing homes I've been in, but it was nice to see this lovely faux-wooden armoire rather than the chains-and-padlock-on-a-lazy-susan that I'm accustomed to seeing. There was a keyboard for wireless internet, and a modem hookup for your laptop. There was even a huge overstuffed chair and footstool. It was all standard-issue motel stuff, but it was NICE standard issue hotel stuff.

One other thing that impressed me, and it's not that the front desk staff were all wearing suits. It's that when I called down that evening for a wake-up call in the morning, the young gentleman who answered the phone thanked me by name when I was done. I know that's a simple trick of caller id on his switchboard, but to have a complete stranger in whose house I am staying say "Thank you, Mr. Irrelephant, have a good night" was really a nice touch.

I can hear it. "Country mouse staying in the big city." I know, I do. I don't get out much, and frankly don't have the sort of money nor necessity that it takes to warrant big hotels and fancy cars and all the ammenities, but that makes it all the more special when I get to enjoy that.

Mrs. Irrelephant told me later that the floors from 18-20 were the 'special ones,' and as such had hot-and-cold running snacks (in a fancy French name) and a masseus per floor, and a concierge, but frankly I wouldn't know what to DO with a concierge. I mean, do you put the smaller one to the outside for salad? Is it proper to leave one tucked in our out at supper? Do you or he yield at a four-way intersection? And what do you do if you drop your concierge? Do you politely ask the waiter for another one, or do you simply pick up the one you had, dust it off and put it back on your lap?

How am I to know these sorts of things? Hell, I was thanking the wait-staff and the doorman.

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