Fucking Hope (part 1)

“I believe you have a key for me. My girlfriend left it for you just a few minutes ago.”

“Your name, sir?”

“Hope. Nick Hope.”

“Thank you sir. May I see some ID?”

“Um. ID?”

“Yes, sir. May I see some ID, please?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any.”

“You don’t have an ID, sir? [incredulous]”

“No, sir, I don’t.”

“Nothing, sir? Nothing with your name on it?” He looks at my phone, at the bag on my shoulder. I agree that, in principle, it seems strange a man of my age, dressed in business attire, with a phone and a bag, wouldn’t have ID. On the other hand… moments ago (it’s 9:30 am), a woman checked in, paying in cash, with an ID that didn’t match the name on the reservation – a reservation placed using DayUse, a new service with the tag line “A hotel room for the day.” It really should be, “A hotel room for sex.”

So the guy either is clueless or being difficult. If I had to bet, I would bet the former.

“No, sir. I don’t have any ID with the name ‘Nick Hope’ on it. Perhaps I should call my friend and have her come down and get me?”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. I’ll call her.”

At which point, I became more confused. So it’s not the hotel’s property that they’re trying to protect, but rather, the hotel’s guests? What did they think? That someone who’s not Nick Hope would somehow know she had left the key for the real Nick Hope, and would intercept him? I’m a little baffled.

In any event, he calls up. He explains there’s a gentleman claiming to be Nick Hope at the desk, but that he doesn’t have any ID.

“Send him up,” says Nick’s Hope.

And so he does….

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