KC trip Sunday '11

At the swanky hotel we stayed in, we were among the select few that have certain privileges; we have access to the "Club Lounge" on the top floor where we and all the other "quality" people stayed. That way we didn't have to go down stairs and rub elbows with the Great Unwashed in the (and I shudder when I say it) the Lobby. Ugh. The Club Lounge was nice; but the nicest thing about it was the server; Monique. She is an African-American gal, about my age, maybe older, and very friendly, with a touch of southern lilt, not enough to identify from where she was from, just enough to give her the atmosphere of being from somewhere that Truly Knows About Hospitality.

Now it is my inclination when thrust into a social situation that I feel that I am out of my element to pull a mean face, scowl quite a bit, and act irritated that I seem to be the only deserving person around and all these other people don't really deserve to around me, but Monique warmed me up out of that. Her job was to be hostess to us important VIP guests of the top floors, where she offered free foods and drinks. She pulled it off quite well, and is so friendly that Wifey and I instantly hit it off with her, even though we know that she probably hits it off with nearly everyone.

Sunday morning I woke up the usual time for me; 4:00, except it was really 3:00 AM this day (the Lord's Time, as Charlie Palmetier would have said, who didn't believe in or use DST) . Since Herself hasn't historically appreciated being awakened when I do; and most likely especially on a day where we have nearly nothing planned, I wisely don't wake her, and go downstairs to the weight room and work out for an hour or so and still have plenty of time to kill before Herself wakes up. I go to the entirely empty "exclusive" 18th floor lounge and begin cleaning up my rough draft of Saturday's blog for a while when Monique comes in to prepare the mornings offerings.

She is obviously not a morning person, so after exchanging the perfunctory "Good mornings", she turns the Lounge TV on to a TV Preacher and really blasts it! Remember, this is all at around 5:something AM, when in stumbles a large man, whom, I'm guessing in

retrospect, hasn't yet been to bed. He's looking for breakfast, and it isn't ready yet. I can't really hear the words; I'm engrossed in my blog, and sitting 3 feet away from the blasting TV preacher at the computer, but I can tell he is getting ugly. As I turn, stand, and focus, I hear Monique; I hear the experienced voice of someone who deals with belligerent drunks on a near daily basis. She rebuked him in her very firm and polite voice that clearly (but still politely) informed him that he was being very disrespectful, rude, and that he can keep his tip wherever he wanted to; that God had blessed her beyond what she needed, and that she wasn't dependent upon anyone but Him for her sustenance. And that guy that made 3 of her beat it right out of the room. She just looked at me, with one hand on hip and other hand stretched out, palm up; very cool and dignified, raised an eyebrow and said in her accented whispery soprano: "Can you believe that man? He interrupted my CHURCH!"

I just wish I could phonetically spell out the scandalized intonation she had in her voice... She called security told him what happened and the manager came up and told us that the drunk dude went down to the lobby (shudder; that's how drunk he was!) and made a fuss down there about her being rude and not serving him breakfast (an hour before it was supposed to be served). He had even included how scandalized and incensed the other gentleman (me?) in the room was as well. I told the security guy exactly what happened and made sure that I laid it on thick about how professionally Monique had responded and impressed I was with the good job she was doing, etc. For the rest of our trip, we had the inside line on anything we wanted from the Hotel! If we asked for 1 of anything, we got 2 or 3 of whatever it was! She hovered over our table; it was as if we were her personal guests, and again we were her favorites. Speaking of which, brings me to a sign I saw at a Plaza shop that reminded me of a recent blog posting:

Anyway, that's about the most remarkable thing that happened to me Sunday, that I can blog about anyway. We didn't even go out for lunch Sunday, we had gone to Dean & DeLuca Saturday and stocked up on bread, olives, hummus, crackers, specialty cheeses, tapenades, little red peppers stuffed with cheese wrapped in prosciutto, etc. In other words, food so rich it would choke a horse. Yum. We had never been before, and it was cool and all, mostly because the old guy doing the cheese samples was quite engaging and very knowledgeable about his cheeses. He could have been Mr. Bloom's (last blog) brother. But we decided that while it had good "atmosphere" it didn't have even as much selection as our Dillon's in Maize that we go to sometimes when we go out on a date, and much cheaper at Dillon's, too. (Yeah, I know, awesome, huh?! Take her to Dillon's for a date?? Oh, Yeah! that's how I roll!) But we didn't have Reward Card's for Dillon's; we had them for Dean & DeLuca.