The Thin Yellow Line

It was one twenty in the morning and I was staring at a band of yellow police tape across the closed-door of my hotel room. “Thats funny” I thought, ”I don’t recall committing a crime before going to work. I would remember that”. Glancing at several other doors down the hall it appeared like the crime was part of a wave that  hit several other neighbors. The security guard parked unceremoniously on a chair outside my door eyed me with suspicion.

Taking the risk of raising the ire of a retired cop with hemorrhoids , I think I saw his posterior resting on a donut (no sprinkles), I smiled and said good morning (part of my killing with kindness persona) and pointed out that one of the taped rooms was mine.

“No it is not sir”. Now I was extremely tired and in that state I have been known to search the wrong side of the airport parking lot for my car but I was looking at my little hotel envelope , the one that accompanies your card key  you when you check in, and the room number on it definitely matched one of the  taped ones.  Proceeding with caution I  showed him the envelope and my key and uttered “Um I am sorry  but when I checked in I was issued a key for this  room”. Seeing the envelope and with the reluctance of a cop not wanting to leave his donut behind he slowly stood up to get a  closer look at the number. He brought out a list for comparison and blinked several times to insure the number remained the same. “Well you will have to talk to the front desk. I have orders to watch these rooms as they have minors on a field trip”.

Wow a field trip to see other people’s hotel rooms! Must be a private school. “Ok,  I know you are just doing your job” I said as I shuffled towards the elevator.

I appeared at the front desk, a tired beaten man incapable of any anger except for the small amount saved up for the snoring that  I hoped would soon be assaulting the neighbors. I explained my plight to the front desk clerk but  it was hard to ignore the fact that  he looked like several of the Star Trek Ensigns that never lasted more than an episode before they were killed off. Perhaps that was why  he  seemed a little extra jumpy. He grabbed the master list of student rooms with all the energy of someone who knew this was their last mission and returned to my floor to confront the hemorrhoidal Bones McCoy from episode whatever and the dangers that lay behind my door.

The security guard snapped to attention accidentally taking the donut with him.

Studying the list together they concluded that my room should not be on the list but they could not guarantee that there would not be a couple of 13 year olds rummaging through my shave kit playing grown up.

Ensign front desk clerk decided that if the was his last mission he was going to carry it out all the way to its conclusion. Gathering his courage he slowly opened my door and throwing caution to the wind flipped the light switch. There at 2 am on a Tuesday night in a hotel in D.C. standing alongside  Ensign  Hotel “ last episode” Clerk and Bones “I’m not a cop I am  a security guard Jim”  McCoy, my eyes fell upon my hotel room devoid of any signs of teenage mayhem.

Twenty minutes later I was unconscious on my bed adding to the stories the school kids would be able to tell their parents about their field trip to DC , the cool stuff they saw and whatever they made up to explain the horrific noise next door that woke them up in the middle of the night.

5 thoughts on “The Thin Yellow Line”

  1. Oh the joys of business travel. We took a stroll down Main St this evening, passed Bogarts and though of you! 🙂

Feel free to drop me your thoughts...