Last night was uneventful unless you consider getting up a bazillion times to try and get the thermostat regulated, a party. (Did you get that sentence?) Apparently something is wrong with the system in my room. I first set the control on 65, a normal setting for me in the winter since I’m extremely hot natured. I went to bed. An hour later I awoke with icicles dangling from my CPAP mask! I got up, shivered over to the thermostat and raised it to 68. I certainly didn’t want it too hot in the room. I crawled back under the covers and was soon ‘out.’ About thirty minutes later, that hump day Camel from the Geico commercial was sitting on the other bed, playing with a dried-out buffalo skull. The wall paper was peeling and I had soaked the sheets. As my feet squished across the 110 degree carpeting in the room, I lowered the thermostat down to 66 thinking juuust maybe it was enough. I went back to bed, lay on top of the sheet trying to ventilate SOMETHING and eventually dozed off again. About forty-five minutes later I woke shivering, the sheets having now frozen to my legs and frost crystals blowing from my mask in such heavy clouds, I thought I was on the set of “Sixth Sense.” I reached over and grabbed my CPAP machine and used it to crack the ice off my torso and headed to the door. (Yes, Kathy Gean, I did stop long enough to pull on a pair of pants.) I stormed down to the lobby and stared, blue-lipped at the now head-cloaked Muslim woman behind the counter. She stared back. “May ah halpa you?” “I’m not sure. Do you have a room with a working thermostat?” “Thormo-what?” “Stat. STAT! THER-MO-STAT!” “Wha-you-call, hmm, na-shuur, what you mean.” It was 2:30 and I was now seething! “Can I crawl up under that garb you’ve got on?” “Aah, scoose me!” I left her standing there, went back to my room and started into the bathroom. It was a 114! I left the door open and eventually the heat from in there mingled with the chill from the room; a perfect blend of atmosphere… BREAKFAST, down in the restaurant was another story. A perky little “draped” teenager arrived at my table looking like Sally Field in the film, “Not Without my Daughter.” I looked around and noticed all the other servers in the same get-up. “May ah helpa yuu?” “Coffee and water please.” “Crema?” “No crèma.” (It was hot in the restaurant.) “Aren’t you hot up in there?” “Ah, scoose me?” “I said, ‘aren’t you HOT in there.” I pointed and swirled my finger around encompassing her clothing. Her expression completely changed and you’d have thought I had challenged her womanhood. “NAUGHT AT ALL!” “Man, I’d have to tear that stuff off my head.” “YOU’D BE SHAMED!” “SHAMED?? Allah likes sweat??” Her eyes got real big and she stormed away from the table. About a minute later, a man of dark complexion approached my table. “May I helpa you?” “I’d like coffee and water.” He stared at me for a second and then back to the serving station by the kitchen where my former server was talking with another hooded person and pointing at me. He turned back to me and said, “Ees dere a pro’lem heer?” “Well, there certainly is one in my room.” “Wha ees that?” “The thermostat is broken.” He stared at me again, turned back to the server and then back to me. He wasn’t talking so I said, “Is there a problem here?” His eyes got very big and he said with a smirk, “You Americans…” I blurted back, “We’re a rowdy bunch, aren’t we??” He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just shook his head and stared. I stared back, stood and finally said, “You Muslims!” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll go to IHOP across the street.” The man didn’t say a word as I picked up my phone and walked out of the hotel. I walked across the street to IHOP, went in and there, walking around the dining room were servers wearing Burkas and chattering away in something other than English. It was just too much for a Friday morning. I eventually found a McDonald’s!
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 14:04:59 +0000
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