Oh, What Daddy’s Plastic Can Buy!

Now I don’t want to come off as one of those over- privileged, underappreciated rich girls because its not entirely true.  I am intimately aware of just how rich my family is, and I am also aware of how other people (most people in fact) are not so monetarily gifted.  However, appearances are sometimes necessary to uphold in order to avoid a later shit storm.  For example, if word got out that I stayed at a hotel in Michigan that was not owned by our “dear family friends” the Devons, I would never hear the end of it from my mother.  She would be terrified that I had insulted our “dear family friends,” and she would lose her discount on her yearly, month long stay, on some exotic island.

“Hi, are you checking in?” asked the desk clerk in a voice a little too cheery for 3am.

“Yes, I don’t have a reservation though.”

“That’s fine Miss Rossi, we have your usual suite available.  Will that be ok?” I was surprised that she knew me by name.  I had only been to that hotel once or twice in my life, and I had never seen this woman before. “I’ll have someone carry your bags for you.  Would you like some room service?”

“Yes, please” I was already hungry again, even though I was exhausted.  At least I didn’t have to carry my bags, the valet had moved them to the sidewalk for me and now some scrawny looking young man was putting them on a cart and leading me to my suite.  

“Don’t you need my credit card?” I asked the clerk.

“No, miss, everything is already on file, have a lovely evening, and let me know if there is anything I can do for you!” Her cheery talking was starting to give me a headache. I had never been to a hotel before, even with my parents, that didn’t require a credit card, or had kept our card “on file.” Whatever.

Once I got to the room I directed the bellboy where to put my bags, and then tipped him generously. Now it was time to get down to some serious business: food.

“I’ll have the crab cakes, the mac & cheese, garlic bread, the veggie omelet, black bean burger with fries, double chocolate cake, a strawberry milkshake, and the scrambled eggs with hash browns. Oh, and can you send up a bottle of ketchup?”

“You want the whole bottle, ma’am?”

 

“Yes, and some extra napkins”

“And you would like all of this at the same time, ma’am?

“Yes”

“Will anyone be joining you, or is one place setting sufficient?”

“I will be dining alone, thank you.” He probably thinks I am a fat cow, but somehow I’m ok with that.