*From the 2006 archives, and third in the Kansas Has Company-Politically Correct Travel Humor series...*
Okay...it's now "another time". For those of you hypersensitive to gender issues, you may want to skip to the next blog entry. Or re-read the previous one (Kansas Has Company, from October 2006). *Warning: stereotypical male opinions/observations upcoming*
There we were: two brothers, at a Travelodge in Mesa, Arizona, down for a little family unfun of the abruptly deceased kind. It was the early evening of that first night, just before sundown that I first noticed her, walking with slow deliberation across the parking lot toward her room, about a dozen doors or so away from us. At a distance, she was tall, in the 5' 10" or so range; she appeared to be rather lean and sleek, moving with something of a grace that one might expect to see of a woman in elegant attire, or finely honed like an athlete. She was blonde. At a distance, I couldn't judge her age with any accuracy, but guessed anyway that she was 30-ish. She was clad in very short shorts, and a t-shirt that didn't cover her midriff. And she had that walk: the walk so demonstrated by Jessica Rabbit in that dimly-lit bar lounge.
No doubt about it: she caught my attention.
Later that evening, while little brother was trying to get a wireless signal for his laptop computer (the hotel said it had such, and it did: but only if you opened the door of the room, and sat in the doorway to "get" it), sitting next to the open door, he saw her for the first time, too: and did one of those classic head-jerking double takes. Yep: at a distance, not bad.
We're guys; that's the way it is, until we're indifferent or dead.
The next morning, while awaiting Maricopa County deputies with whom we had to meet, I saw her again, walking from her room to the office; during that slow, purposeful walk of hers, she turned and glanced my way, and nodded her head.
Little Bro: Looks like you might have made a new friend here.
Me: So it do.
Perhaps just male-ego illusions...
After a busy day of dealing with the things necessary for the trip and getting dinner in another seemingly over 60s eatery, the sun was coursing it's way below the roofline of the hotel; in the dying embers of daylight, it was still quite warm, but calm and pleasant outside. So we grabbed a couple beverages (lightweights we are, they were Cokes from the vending machine at the office), and 'parked it' outside of the room, shooting the breeze and enjoying the relative peace of the evening.
Then she came out of her room: once again, clad in those very short shorts, and midriff-baring t-shirt. She was apparently in the process of cleaning the air filter on the AC unit for her room; she glanced our way a few times, and threw a couple comments in our direction that neither of us could discern.
Okay, we're guys; we stared back, particularly when she bent over at the waist to do something, facing away from us. After finishing up whatever it was she was doing, she -- with a bottle of Corona Beer in hand -- leisurely sashayed to the dumpster near the street, and then walked back, and chose then to stop and visit with us.
Still cloaked in the lengthening shadows of night, she looked, well...interesting. Then she walked up to within three feet of moi, and the soft lights escaping our open hotel room splashed across her features like a lighthouse, revealing...a rock-strewn, hostile shoreline. And right there, up close and personal, we saw her in all her...self.
Recall if you will or can, the visual reaction of one of the members of The Dirty Dozen as the seven prostitutes entered their barracks, and one of them was exceptionally....rough-faced (he stared, shook his head and went "phwhew").
That was the reaction both of us suppressed, as we entered into conversation with the body of a woman, with the face of the late Sam Kinison:
Her: (in a voice that left us in some doubt as to the gender we were speaking to) How're you boys doing tonight?
Us (more or less): Uh, fine. And you?
Her: Oh, just great! I'm on my third Corona *takes a long pull at it*...ahhhh, I just love a good cold one on a hot night, don't you?
Me: Never had the stuff, myself...I prefer Sam Adams...
Lil' Bro: Stuff's terrible. Makes me see things. (Lil' Bro was having more subtle fun with this than I was, and made it rough for me to keep a straight face).
Her: Really? Too bad....it's really good stuff *takes another long pull on the bottle in what we took to be a suggestive manner*
She introduced herself as "Karley", we in turn, introduced ourselves as ourselves.
Her: Where you from?
Me: Colorado. And you?
Her: Oh, I'm a native to this area.
Lil' Bro: Do you still live here (meaning in the area, since she was staying in the hotel)?
Her: Oh yes..I've been living in this hotel now for about three months...are you two just visiting, or on business?
Me: Just visiting for business, so to speak.
Her: And what do you visitors do?
Me: Well, he (Lil' Bro) is a rocket scientist type who works on quantum thingees or some such..
(she giggles in a gravelly sort of way)
Me: and I work in a casino.
Her: Really? Bet you know how to play the spreads, don't you?
(unable to resist)
Me: So what do you do for a living, Karley?
Her: Ohhhhh, I....I work in personal customer service.
(Lil' Bro and I exchanged brief *TOING* glances while she took another pull on the bottle)
(unable to resist again)
Me: Personal customer service, eh? I get the sense you enjoy what you do.
Her (with another giggle sorta): Well, it pays my bills...and depending on the client, it can be quite fun.
Lil' Bro: I'm sure it has it's sucky moments, too (this one nearly ruined my weakening facade).
Her: *Taking a long last, draining pull on the beer, and tossing her head in a "this way, boys" manner* Well, you two, if you get bored or want some fun, drop by my room, anytime.
And away she Jessica Rabbit-walked. Almost seemingly even slower, so we'd get the full effect.
We sat there for a minute, exchanging glances like *are you number two-ing me?*, then meandered back into our room, holding the laughter until the door was shut.
From that moment on -- and here, my conservative mean-spiritedness comes through like a belch in church -- as the story of the trip was/is told, she became known as Barlight Betty, the Travelodge Trollop.