Here is probably a shocking fact about people visiting Las Vegas. They have been known to overindulge in alcohol. Most of the stumbling stupor is just mixed in to a big blur throughout each night but sometimes a person shines above all others. A few months ago, I interacted with such a person.
Let’s call her Debbie Denver, or DD… in truth her name was probably Francine Farmer (FF). It is a Saturday night and Debbie is doing her best to make sure that there is no tequila left in Las Vegas by the end of the night. I first met Debbie around 7pm when she had lost her room key. I made her a new key and she proceeded to stuff it into her bra for safe keeping. A pretty safe spot considering her ample assets.
At about 8:30, Debbie, slightly more shaky, stumbles up to the desk and says she has lost her key again. I make her another one and she puts the new key in the same place at the old one.
It is now 10:00, and Debbie is now doing the land mine dance in the lobby, taking 2 steps left or right for every step forward. At this point, she is debating on moving to Mexico and changing her name to Jose Patron. She is embarrassed and mortified to have lost another room key. She requests two keys this time because it is not happening again. One in the left cup and one in the right.
Hey, it’s 11:15 and I am getting ready to clock out and the night just couldn’t end without another visit from Debbie whose DNA is now leaning to 60% tequila and 40% silicone. You will never believe it, she has lost the last two keys. Two more keys made and again she tries to balance herself by putting one in each cup.
I am not sure how many more keys she had to ask for during the rest of the night but one thing I am sure of. When she finally went up to her room and got undressed, I am sure that she was more than shocked when all those room keys fell out of her bra that she thought she had lost.