There was some really funny stuff Saturday night. Most of it was the you-had-to-be-there variety, but here goes.
D-Dawg and I were sent on a welfare check about 0230 or so. He had gotten there before me and knocked and had established there was no one in the room. I got off the elevator and turn down the hall and I walk up to him, salute, and say “Henry 2 reporting as ordered, sir.”
D-Dawg, himself former Army, returns my hand salute with a hand salute of his own that would’ve caused MacArthur to achieve and maintain a state of arousal.
D-Dawg then left faces, takes his master key in his right hand. Our keys clip to our utility belts and have those pull-out cord deals so you can use the keys without unclipping them. D-Dawg, holding his keys, brings his right hand straight out to the side and then as far up as he can reach and marches one step to the door and with flourish and precision, opens the door.
D-Dawg and I have certain procedures we use in this situation. D-Dawg makes initial entry and checks the living area and I fan out behind him, making a big deal out of drawing my flashlight and checking the can. After we determine there aren’t any dead bodies, we each announce our respective sectors are code four.
After I announced the can was code four I leave the can and D-Dawg is standing by the armoire and he pulls out his scanner and holds it like a gun, takes a couple of steps to the bed nearest the window, rolls onto the bed and then off the far side. He checks under the bed and announces that, too, is code four.
Then for reasons I am still not entirely sure of, I tried the procedure on the bed nearest the door. I plop on the mattress and roll over the side, falling to the floor like a sack of cement, which had D-Dawg laughing really hard for a long time.
Junior had the best line of the night, however. It came when X-Ray, D-Dawg and I were in the 12th-floor maid’s room for 0600 debriefing.
You may recall that once scanners are turned in and we are all sitting together it is routine for all three of us to respond to a call, even if it is a routine guest assist. That’s the hotel way; we’re a team and after 0600 D-Dawg’s call is my call, and vice versa. In fact, when Junior had called X-Ray for a noise complaint around 0615, the radio traffic had gone something like this:
– Control, Henry 4.
– Henry 4, 10-8.
– Noise complaint, 7-113. 7-113.
– Henry 2, I copy.
– Henry 3, me too. I’m 85.
Junior would not be surprised at this. He’s worked the hotel and knows we’re all sitting together farting around till the end of shift. We really weren’t giving away any state secrets.
So about 0645 Junior gets on the horn again. His voice has a sense of urgency – as if the deal is really going down. Junior’s timing is perfect, and I do mean perfect.
– Control Henry 2…
…and Henry 4…
The three of us sit up. Junior has our complete attention. Junior’s tone has shown that something important is happening and the breaks in his traffic indicate he was still sorting the whole mess out. Probably a mass murder or something. We sit there for a few, tense, unbearable seconds.
I respond because I am the only one capable of talking while laughing really hard.
Saturday was very routine otherwise, like it invariably is after a really busy Friday. Everyone is tired after a fun weekend and just wants to get some sleep before heading home in the morning.
Here is your projected Mary lineup for tonight:
Mary 1 – Judy
Mary 2 – Tim S.
Mary 3 – moi
Pulling a little OT, as is Tim, who works swing shift.