a note under the door

sometime in the middle of the night a white piece of paper was slipped under my hotel room door. i saw it half-in, half-out as i padded my way to the bathroom at 3:15 in the morning.

delicious! the hotel knows i am celebrating my birthday and they have given me a card! or maybe it's from those nice gals with whom i shared a giggle at check-in. i picture a note that says

"hi! we think you are super fun, can we buy you lunch or a drink tomorrow to celebrate your birthday? let us know! signed the girls in 307."

i am sleepy but smiling and can't wait to see who is writing to me!

it's a bill. it's just a bill. it has my name and address and how much it costs and it does not even say "thank you" or "we hope you enjoyed your stay" it just says "sign here".

when the front desk staff answer the phone they say "we wish you were here thank you for calling us" and i think that is corny but also kind of cute, and those nice young people are so pleasant and welcoming.

they didn't send this note. not them. no not them.

there is a creepy little man who emerges from his basement office in the middle of the night to make his rounds. he looks like Mr. Burns with a skinny hunched back, a nose nearly as pointy as his shoes, sweaty hair (what is left of it) and clothes that smell like an old closet.

he tiptoes around pushing a tiny cart that holds his files, several pieces of white paper, a pencil and pad, a calendar and a calculator. he slithers up and down the hallways folding each bill in half and sliding it half-way under the door and making a note of the amount he is assigning to the sleeping people or person on the other side of that door.

at the end of his rounds he adds up the accounts payable and turns bright red with joy as he ticks up the total. "GOD DAMN THE PUSHA MAN" he sings in an awkward tune under his breath as he dances the cabbage patch on the elevator. he goes back to his office and puts his feat up on his
gun- metal grey desk and lights up a cigarello. another good night.

but for me standing there in my donut pjs basking in the light from the bathroom looking at what i owe i feel a little intruded upon.

oh well, we all have to earn a living and after all it was a lovely stay.

and if i bet if i called them right now they would wish i was still there.

me too, a little.