I See Dumb People Saturday, November 16, 2002

So, a man came back down to the front desk after checking in the other night, he was complaining about somebody in his room.  The girl he was bitching @ was one of our new hires (poor little thing) and she looked completely lost as to what to say to him, so I stepped in to help.  That was my first mistake.  "This guy is in my room," he said, aggrivated. "I know it, I can see him in there!"  I immediately apologized for checking him into an occupied room, blaming it on a computer glitch and assured him I'd locate a new room for him right away. "You don't understand!" the big, bloated man barked, "The room is fine but he followed me here!  I knew this was going to happen, dammit.  But he thinks I don't see him."  Um... okay.  Noting the fact that he was clutching a Heineken from the minibar, I tried to just follow along with him.  He kept saying something about this man in his room who was hiding or something.  The naked, mumbling homeless man I pass every morning on the subway platform was making more sense than this bastard.  I was completely LOST @ this point and so I just shut the hell up and listened, sadly unprepared for the shit this fool was about to tell me. 

Apparently, Big Bloated Man had a ghost in his room.  And not just any ghost, but a Latin ghost from New Jersey who sometimes speaks to him... in Spanish.  This man was not joking, he seemed completely sound of mind... yu know, except for the seeing dead ppl thing.  BBM told me that he just bought a house in the Garden State and that it turned out to be "fucking haunted" with some spanish family and so he came to Hudson for the night, to get some space and a little peace and quiet. "Of course, sometimes you just need to get away," I appeased him, nodding sympathetically."and I don't speak Spanish either, so that can be frustrating as well.  I completely understand."  BBM asked for me to come up to the room and see for myself if I didn't believe him.  I politely said hell no but offered to send for a preist, or a Ghostbuster, or even a bilingual housekeeper to maybe translate and break the language barrier.  We settled for my manager, Brooklyn Boy Paul.  I honestly expected him (with his blue-collar roots and "Don't give me bullshit" attitude)  to laugh his ass off, but he took the whole thing completely seriously, to my suprise.  What the hell do you SAY to somebody who claims a ghost is in the room?  Are there actual words?  Do you offer condolences?  Paul had security go up to BBM's room and make sure nobody was hiding under the bed or in any secret passageways, he even stood there and listened to the man's paranoia.  It all seemed to do the trick, until about an hour later when BBM came back to the front desk to let us know that the man was back and this time he brought a little ghost kid with him.  "They're hiding in my drapes, so I tied a knot down @ the bottom to hold them there.  God, you have no idea how annoying this is..."  At this point, he wasn't really interested in switching rooms, and we'd already done our part to help, so I just quit caring altogether.  Creepy man thinks he's Haley Joel Osmet.  I suggested he try and just accommodate them, that maybe they'd appreciate some room service or something.  BBM shook his head and looked @ me like I was the one who'd been talking stupid all night.  He left a little while later, the dumb bastard. 

I hope he took those ghosts with him, we try to avoid exorcisms @ Hudson (that, and Jersey).

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