Sunday, August 29, 2010
Story Time, Friends!
So, one Wednesday evening, as we're getting ready to finish up our work and head home, we get an email.
"The server is down..."
The server is down? Yeah, right; we'll see about that.
The server was down.
So, we try and bring it back up. Before we could even compose that sentence in our minds, we realize that it's not just down, it's broken. Completely, 100% broken beyond repair.
They don't want to hear it. They want us to fix it. The honest reply of "There's nothing TO fix" has no effect on them.
After hours of pleas, turns out... *drum roll* -- THE SERVER IS BROKEN. They let us leave... as soon as we order a new one.
"We need a drink"
We meet up with group of friends at a bar and begin to drown our sorrows in a pint of Boont. Eventually, we're drunk enough to try and "dance" to some Gorillaz and Ratatat that we put on the Jukebox. The night is ending on a pretty good note.
And then the bartender comes up to us, "You guys need a card for your tab."
"Well, we have one up there... so, we're good. Thanks"
"No, you don't"
"Yes, we do?"
"No, you took it off."
"That never happened."
"THEN IT WAS SOMEONE WHO LOOKED JUST LIKE YOU."
Turns out, it was someone that looked just like them. Some random dude decided to check out our card. Sucks, right? Well, it could have been worse. We got the rest of our drinks that night on the house, and we ended up getting all of our previous charges reversed. BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT.
Eventually, we've had enough to drink. Not really, it was 2am and they kicked us out.
"So... it's only 2am on a Tuesday; what do we do now?"
Turns out, we go to a hotel that our friend is staying at. We walk in; the guest of the hotel proclaiming how drunk he is, the rest of us silent behind him.
As the elevator doors begin to close, a hand protrudes from them and the doors re-open to reveal the Bellhop.
"Where's his key?" as he points at the third dude.
The guest replies "I have a key," as the doors begin to close again.
Again, sausage fingers stop the doors from fully closing.
"Where's HIS key?" he asks again.
"I have a key, and he's with me, so it's fine"
We go through this exchange once more, until he finally lets the doors close and we make our way to the room.
Skipping the part about us sitting around a room, doing nothing, talking about nothing.
And we head outside again. It's 4am and they start selling alcohol again!
(Tip: No, they don't. Why did we ever think that was something that was real?)
While we're out, we decide to disband this little party and try and get whatever sleep there is left. We send one of us home in a cab and head back to grab our things to leave.
As we walk back into the hotel, empty-handed, we're stopped in the middle of the lobby by the same Bell Hop.
"YOU CAN'T COME IN HERE! YOU'RE TOO LOUD! NOISE COMPLAINTS!"
We're all shocked. We have no idea what he's talking about. With the fact that we've been gone for a good hour, what noise could we have made?
Our heroic hotel guest steps up to the Bell Hop and begins to cut him down in size.
"LISTEN. You don't yell at me. I'm a paying guest at this hotel and you don't talk to me like that. They're my guests, they're not staying the night; we're going up stairs to get our things and then we're leaving. Can we do that?"
"NO! NO NO! TOO MUCH NOISE"
"LISTEN, DUDE, WE'RE NOT GOING TO STAY UP THERE. WE'RE GETTING OUR THINGS AND LEAVING. Where's the manager?"
He points to a woman standing behind the counter.
"Excuse me, can me and my guests go up stairs to grab--"
"Yes, of course. I don't know what he's doing." gesturing to the Bellhop.
We make our way back up to the room and grab our belongings, preparing for the final awkward walk through the lobby.
We walk by, give the Bellhop a nice little wave, and voice our opinion of the staff ("Great service here!").
Walking down the street, laughing about what the crap just happened, we're greeted by a friendly shout from the outside of the hotel.
"FUCK YOU GUYS!"
Oh, man. Really? We were done, dude. We were going home. Why do you have to be so crazy?
We walk back, and proceed to ask him these questions. Why does he have such a bone to pick with us?
He continues to yell profanities at us as I take down his name and make sure to leave a note to call and complain tomorrow (later that day).
With my phone out, I get the brilliant idea of taking some pictures -- or at least acting like I was. Before my phone is even horizontal, he drops his cigarette and SWING at me. Kocking both my hands and my phone out of them. My phone flies about 5 feet away and bounces on the ground -- still working, though. As he attempts to flee back into the building. I grab his arm and, in that moment realize, I either have to take him down to the ground or let him go. I decide to let him go, nothing really warranted a tackle.
Fairly anti-climactic, we all decide to just not talk about the incident and just head home.