"Flashback - Episode 3. Trapped in Vegas" Tuesday, July 6th:
There is nothing quite like the feeling of utter exhaustion...in a comfortable bed, with no impending deadlines or chores to complete and with a stack of powerful drugs to deliver the body from pain and the mind from reality. Add to this the feeling of control afforded by American style high-speed room service, high-speed wireless internet, a hot line to the head of security and a large shark like motorcycle lurking in the bat cave below, and you are pretty much set for some serious recuperation.
Having carefully organised five canisters of pills, six litres of Gatorade and two litres of water on my bedside table, I pulled the curtains shut, inserted earplugs to ban the constant screaming and fell asleep.
Approximately 12 hours later I awoke to the sound, or to be more accurate given my use of earplugs, the sensation of banging. Now, when I say banging I mean banging in a number of different senses of the word. With my audio suppressed all I could sense was a steady rhythmic banging on the wall between my room and the next. As I sat up and removed my earplugs this was joined by a steady rhythmic yelping that varied in pitch exactly as an engine does when going through the gears - higher as the speed increases and lower as the speed decreases.
This was some serious action and whoever was in the driving seat was moving more than just his or her partner - the bed and headboard, the wall and my headboard to be precise. Normally I would listen for a few moments - not that this is a situation I regularly find myself in - make sure I was not mistaking the whole cacophony for someone taking a heinous beating at the hands of some axe wielding homicidal maniac, and then give the wall a few long hard bangs of my own to cool things down. However, this was Vegas and I figured that events of this nature were both commonplace and an essential part of the dynamic Vegas experience. So having moved the bed away from the wall and turned the television on LOUD, I tried to put the whole thing to the back of my mind.
With the aid of 105 cable channels and with a battery of drugs to consume, this worked for at least ten minutes. But there comes a point when banging, yelping and screaming in concert become too much to bear, and given that I was powerless to stop the screaming, the banging and yelping had to go. Having delivered a number of fist thumping salvos against the wall and not having noticed even the slightest sign that the engine was stalling, I opted for the direct approach.
Turning left out of my door and into the corridor I was confronted by a baseball cap wearing, beer bottle swigging, late 20 something male of some considerable stature. When I say considerable stature I actually mean built like a brick shit house with a two story extension. Normally this would not faze a man of my athletic prowess, however, in my somewhat weakened state I felt it ill advised to take any unnecessary risks. Thus, adopting a slightly friendlier demeanor than I would do normally, I approached the monster and, drawing my frame up to full height, asked,
"Could you ask your friend to go a little easier. It would be nicer for his guest and far quieter for me". He nodded slowly, his mouth agape. There was no reply, not that one was needed. He was clearly impressed by my grasp of the situation and so, confident that my message would get through, I beat a hasty retreat to my room. I was unsure as to what would happen if the monster, who was clearly next in line to entertain "the guest", got it in his head that I was going to phone the hotel management. The last thing I needed was another ugly scene involving hotel security, paramedics and a trip to hospital.
Back in my room I heard the door next door open, the steady rhythmic banging abruptly stop and a short, loud, hushed, urgent conversation start. Whatever loudly whispered urgent words were exchanged, they had the desired effect and the banging never resumed. Two door slams later - the first I assume being the pay-off, and the second their departure - I was left in silence, baring the screaming that is.
This dealt with, my next concern was the hotel room that I was currently occupying, or more to the point, the cost of the hotel room that I was currently occupying. When I checked in, the idea was to stay for only two nights. This being Vegas it seemed logical to stay where the action was - on the Strip. Thus having shopped around I found a $250-a-night room for $139-a-night - given the dollar/sterling exchange rate this was a steal for 400 square feet of prime 24th floor Las Vegas real estate, with main room jacuzzi, walk-in double shower, 28 inch TV, high-speed internet and a bed the size of a small Caribbean island.
However, and as with all steals, there was a catch. If I extended my stay the rate reverted to $250-a-night. Unfortunately I had slept my way past checkout time and was careering irreversibly towards full room rate on night three. It's strange, but at $250-a-night, the whole 400 square feet of prime 24th floor Las Vegas real estate, with main room jacuzzi, walk-in double shower, 28 inch TV, high-speed internet and a bed the size of a small Caribbean island thing, suddenly becomes a bit extravagant and wasteful. There was no way I was going to be fit to leave for another two days, so in total, I was set for a 4 night stop in Las Vegas. Thus I needed to secure another two nights for considerably less than $250-a-night.
I had two choices. Firstly, negotiate hard on my existing hotel room and perhaps downgrade by a couple of hundred square feet, a few floors and a jucuzzi, for a subsequent night. And the second, to move out immediately and find a motel off the strip - none of which looked particularly great, but did hold the promise of 24 hour triple x rated porn channels, free ice and with some, membership to a special "gentleman's" club which invariably sported blacked out windows and no obvious main entrance.
I've been in situations like this before, and the key is confidence...plus if possible, loud litigious noises. I rang down to the front desk and my call was picked up by a very polite lady called Mary Lou.
"Hello Mary Lou. This is a guest in 2412. I was admitted to hospital last night with acute food poisoning after eating at the Italian restaurant here in the hotel.
"Gee, I'm really sorry to hear that Sir. That's terrible"
"Yes Mary Lou it was, and thank you for your concern"
"You're welcome"
"Thank you"
"You're Welcome"
"Thank you"
"You are very welcome"
You can try this in any service situation, e.g. in a restaurant, a hotel, at a petrol station, etc. Whenever you say thank you, you receive an automatic "You're welcome". It appears to be the first rule of service in America. I'm not decrying this practice; Britain would be a far nicer place to shop if we adopted it. It's just that, as with all things new, you tend to want to play with them until the novelty wears off. Thus I had adopted the practice of going at least three rounds of thank you's when ever the opportunity arose.
"Mary Lou" (Using names is very important as any hostage negotiator will tell you. It builds an immediate personal relationship and effectively stops you being viewed simply as meat, or in my case a hotel guest.) "Firstly I was wondering who I might contact regarding the food contamination at the Italian restaurant. And secondly, due to being in hospital all night on a drip, I appear to have over-shot my check out time. Is there anything you could do for me?"
"Let me take a look at that Sir, I won't be a moment"
"Thank you"
"You're welcome"
I left it at one round given how finely balanced our negotiations were.
A minute later Mary Lou was back.
"Sir"
"Yes Mary Lou"
"I have been authorised to hold the rate on your current room at the special check-in rate. How would that be?"
"That would be great. Actually I was wondering if tomorrow I could move to a smaller room and whether you could do me a special rate on that? It's just that the doctors at the hospital were keen for me to get at least two days bed rest given the severity of my food poisoning. The problem is I was only planning a two day stay and I seem to have blown my accommodation budget"
"Let me take a look at that Sir, I won't be a moment"
"Thank you"
"You're welcome"
Again, no point in pushing it.
"Sir, I could move you to a queen size non-smoking room which is between 300 and 400 square feet, on the 18th floor, at a rate of $99 a-night. How would that be"
"That would be fine Mary Lou."
"That's done Sir. Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?"
"No, I think that's about it for now"
"OK, have a good evening and I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay"
"Thank you Mary Lou, you've been very helpful"
"Thank you Sir"
Thank you"
"You're welcome"
"Thank you"
You're welcome"
Two was enough. Again, no point in pushing it.
With my room sorted I could relax and, with a move to the 18th floor, recuperate in peace...without the screaming.