The Front Desk

I look over at the banquet hall entrance but think better of it for the moment.

I glance over at the front desk, which seems to be empty at the moment, and decides to ask a few questions. As I walk over there, I notice the person standing beside the desk, is a trim Latin woman, who could be seventeen or twenty-seven, especially when stuck in the shapeless uniform top of this hotel chain.

“How may I help you, sir,” she says, looking me in the eye. “Do you need to check-in for tonight?”

“Actually,” I respond, looking down at her name tag, “Daniela, I'm not staying here tonight, but instead, I'm here for the ten year reunion that's going on over in the banquet room.”

“Well,” she begins to stay, “that's not really under our responsibility, so if you have any questions, it's probably better to ask somebody -”

“Oh, don't worry. I'm not over here to ask you any questions about the reunion. I'm sure you've noticed, but I'm not exactly from around here. The lack of Dockers khakis, badly bleached hair, too tight button-up shirts, or the fact I'm not a woman wearing a crop top who shouldn't be probably stood out.”

She smiles for a second, looks down, then says, “sir, I don't quite understand the point of making fun of the people showing up to your reunion.”

“Well, you've seen the clientele. I flew out here from California, because of a promise I made to a close friend, but something popped up and she couldn't join me taking a trip back in time. So, against my better judgment, I still decided to show up.”

“That's interesting, but I still don't know why you're speaking to me about this,” Daniela responded, taking a look to make sure I wasn't holding up any kind of line, which I wasn't.

“Given the choice between reliving my high school years, which weren't the best, or talking to a lovely young woman, I decided to ramble over here. So, here's what is going to happen. I'm going head into the belly of the beast, keep up appearances, hopefully not get involved in anything too crazy, then in a little bit, I'll leave.”

Daniela looked at me, still nonplussed, but beginning to catch on a bit.

“When I do that, I'd like for you to join me and point to somewhere much more entertaining and interesting I could spend my evening. So, what time does your shift end,” I said, looking at her, directly in her big brown eyes.

“You realize this is completely unprofessional,” she whispers, but then says nothing more.

“I was hoping you didn't give two fucks about being professional about a job you likely hate,” I said in response, keeping my gaze on hers.

She waits a moment, then says, “my shift ends at ten. I've got to change out of this uniform, but meet me in the parking lot at 10:15, and I'll show you a much interesting time than what these gringos are going to cook up.”

“I look forward to it,” I respond, then place my hand on hers. Then, I turn around and head back toward the front door of the banquet.