When I heard the hotel I’d be staying at was given a seven-star rating by the AAA Travel Guide, I knew I was in for quite an experience. After all, the AAA star-rating system only goes up to five stars. Which led me to the question, just what was it about this hotel that made it so special? Two-stars special. Fortunately, it wouldn’t take me long to find out.
There I was, speeding down Pacific Coast Highway, ignoring all the rules of the road, when my mobile phone started to ring. I turned down the volume of my Best of Quarterflash CD and answered the call:
“Hello?”
“Mr. Googlethorp?” *
“Yes . . .”
“This is Angela from the Montagery hotel and resort. How are you this morning?”
“Fine, thank you. Is there something wrong with my reservation?”
“No, not at all. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t having any trouble getting here.”
“Oh, no, I’m good. Right on schedule.”
” . . . ”
“Hello?”
“Well, not necessarily. I’ve pinpointed your location and it looks like you’re headed straight for a traffic jam.
“You pinpointed my location?”
“Yes. May I suggest an alternate route?”
“How did you pinpoint my location?”
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s a Montagery Resort secret. Now, if you’d please, make a left at the next street light.”
And so, against my better judgment, I followed Angela’s directions. And before I knew it, I was back on PCH and headed towards the resort. I thanked Angela, then hung up and turned my attention to the road.
As I sped past another cursing motorist, my mind began to race: Was Angela still watching me? And if so, how was she doing it? Did she track me through my cell phone? Was a helicopter tailing me from the sky? But more importantly, what was Angela wearing? And even more importantly, did she look as hot in person as she sounded on the phone?
After imagining a rather detailed fantasy involving Angela, myself and 500 pounds of partially melted sweet-cream butter (unsalted), I found myself pulling into the driveway of the Montagery Resort & Spa. To my surprise, not one attendant was waiting for me when I arrived.
There were five.
“Good morning, Mr. Googlethorp.” One valet opened my door and helped me out of the car, while another opened the trunk of my vehicle and removed my bags.
“Hi. Where do I check in?”
“Oh, no need, Mr. Googlethorp. Everything will be taken care of.”
I shrugged my shoulders and started to walk to the lobby. Another valet stopped me.
“Please, Mr. Googlethorp. What are you doing?”
“Uh, I thought I’d go to the lobby.”
“No, no, Mr. Googlethorp. There will be none of that here. This is a full-service resort. Our guests do not walk.”
“They don’t?”
“Of course not. Edgar will take you to where you need to go.”
“Edgar?”
“Edgar!” The valet yelled. And two seconds later, a large man, with a silk pad strapped to his back approached me, then turned around and crouched like a trained camel.”
“Uh, no thanks. I’ll walk.”
“Is Edgar not to your liking? He is a fine specimen, I assure you. You will be cradled in comfort wherever you go.”
“Yeah, I’m sure . . . I don’t know. It’s just a little creepy to me.”
“Creepy? Ha ha ha! It is clear that you are not accustomed to the luxury of The Montagery.”
“Yeah, I guess not.” I started to walk away again.
The valet grabbed my arm. “Please, sir, I beg of you, let Edgar take you. If the masters were to see you walking, they would no doubt take the lash to me.”
“The lash?”
“Lash? Did I say lash? Heh-heh, I meant cash. They would take the cash from me. You know, dock my pay.”
“You said lash.”
“Shhh,” he hushed me. The fucker hushed me! “Please, let Edgar take you.” His eyes pleaded with me.
“OK, OK. Fine. I’ll ride your man-beast into the lobby. But that’s as far as he’s taking me. I cannot believe I’m doing this.”
And so I hopped on Edgar, slipping my feet into the stirrups and grabbing onto the silk-lined handle attached to his back.
“Excellent. You won’t be disappointed. Take him to the bar, Edgar.”
“I’d really like to go up to my room, if you don’t mind.”
“Your room will be ready shortly. If you’ll just have a drink at the bar, we’ll come and get you after it’s been properly prepared. A table has been reserved just for you.”
“You reserved a table at the bar just for me? Why am I not surprised?”
“Ha ha. There a many other surprises in store for you during your stay, Mr. Googlethorp. Many surprises.” He said this with almost a sinister tone to his voice. I wasn’t sure if it was for foreshadowing or if he was just a stuck-up asshole.
Moments later, I was on my way. Amazingly, the ride wasn’t bumpy at all. Edgar knew how to to walk so that his body absorbed all the shock. It was like I was drifting on a cloud, only it was warmer and much easier to breathe. Within seconds, I got over the embarrassment of piggy-back riding my way around and found myself thinking about never walking again. If this was just a sample of what staying at the Montagery Resort was going to be like, there was no doubt in my mind, I was going to be a very happy customer.
To Be Continued. That’s what the “Part One” in the title means. Duh.
*My name has been changed because this one sounds funnier.
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