Casual
Bass, David
Casual DOWN AND OUT AT THE BEVERLY HILTON A recent Wednesday night, on a business trip to Los Angeles, a colleague and I had a bite to eat at the hotel restaurant. I returned to my room about...
...Wrong, Foolish Reader...
...So I left for Washington, and here I sit not knowing whether the Beverly Hilton is going to reimburse me for one cent of my loss...
...Defenestration-induced decapitation...
...Hermes ties from various Father's Days...
...I did, and eventually the assistant general manager left a message for me...
...Gone...
...Dress shirts...
...The sympathy in the room was as scarce as my laptop...
...chemical peel...
...It seemed that the hotel security guard and, arriving a minute later, the Beverly Hills police officer (who had somehow procured Herbert Haft's hair for this evening...
...I returned to my room about 10:15—to find it ransacked...
...Gone...
...My laptop was the first thing whose absence I noticed...
...So for the next 30 or so hours, it was me and Barney Fife engaged in useless conversation...
...Palm V? Gone...
...Here, hum the Price Is Right theme...
...The general manager...
...Again, I'll let the reader speculate as to the precise form of this salute...
...Cufflinks from another anniversary...
...Through some lapse of logic, the invasion of my room and theft of all my property didn't even warrant the hotel's questioning the only other person known to have been in my room that Wednesday evening (a maid) until Friday...
...As for its patron, Merv Griffin, I salute him...
...Not a gratis night, meal, drink, or cup of coffee...
...Montblanc inscribed with first anniversary date...
...Suits...
...Briefcase...
...Or at least make some palliative gesture...
...Mid-morning, I called again and was asked to leave a message...
...And the hotel's cavalier attitude toward illegalities really shouldn't come as a surprise, considering that they sell $50 Cuban cigars at the pool-side bar...
...A new suitcase...
...And to carry it all away, Bob...
...By the time I had gone pugilistic on a few walls, used a few not-so-care-fully selected vulgarities (which attracted notice from a couple walking down the hall, who told me their car had just been broken into), and security had arrived, 10 minutes at most had elapsed...
...So, sadder but wiser, I'm swearing off the rather lovely, somewhat tacky, centrally located establishment I have made my exclusive residence when in Los Angeles these last ten years...
...You guessed it...
...Gone...
...Total wipeout—the place was vacuumed...
...I'll let the reader speculate as to whether the message was there...
...Gone...
...Defenestration...
...Still, I actually expected concern...
...Athletic gear...
...Now, I am aware that my loss was the equivalent of half a mediocre L.A...
...What remained were the pants and shirt I was wearing and my oldest pair of shoes, on me as well...
...When I attempted to return his call, I was quickly relegated to the assistant director of security...
...Nothing...
...Off I went, my few toiletries and shirts pathetically balanced on a notebook...
...Two tattered Polo shirts (this lar-cener preferred my Lacostes), some toiletries (he or she liked my cologne, toothpaste, razor, and after-shave lotion), and a half-drunk bottle of Evian the felonious rake had selected from the mini-bar to refresh him or herself midst this laborious task...
...Still, after I'd spent an hour filling out the loss report, which came to a not insignificant sum, I naively imagined the hotel would now bend over backwards to placate me...
...Gone...
...Boxer shorts...
...One keeps hoping this little game will end...
...To speak with the assistant general manager...
...I must have put it somewhere else," I said to myself, though the thought flew in the face of my knowledge that I hadn't moved it from the desktop in three days...
...I had left a message the night of the robbery asking the general manager to call first thing the next day...
...Once the reality of the situation sank in and my head stopped swimming, I began to inventory my possessions (personal property before office, sorry News Corp...
...You see, to get an audience with the director of security, you must have suffered violent assault by gang members in the process of trashing your room...
...Gone...
...Shoes...
...So you're thinking in the morning I was awakened by a call from the general manager...
...DAVID H. BASS...
...I could go on, but I believe the point is clear...
...Instead I was moved to a room with no king-sized bed, no balcony, and a full view of the poolside stairwell...
...The one thing I can report is that it seems I was actually charged for the thief-swilled Evian...
...Each time we spoke, I received a response like, "It's under investigation," or, "It's not likely that we'll be able to tell you anything before you leave for Washington...
...To prevent dehydration, the surgeon general does recommend water every 20 minutes during rigorous criminal activity...
...The hotel had finally promised to leave a message on my voicemail by the time I arrived in Washington Friday evening...
...What else was left...
...Gone...
...It doesn't...
...Gone...
...Tip to the BHPD: Cops shouldn't use hairspray) had attended the same charm school...
Vol. 5 • June 2000 • No. 37
