the lemonheads caper
when i lived in margaret river, australia, in 1999, i worked split shifts at the knights inn --housekeeping in the mornings and reception in the afternoons. i would race into the office at 3pm and change from my grubby cleaning clothes into a respectable skirt and blouse [given to me by my boss --i don't habitually backpack with anything nicer than a clean hoody].
one day (in such a wardrobe changing rush), the receptionist who was finishing her shift took one last call. "...certainly... yes... last name, please ? ... dando ? can you spell that for me ?"
as i slipped on my six-dollar sally-ann 'dress' shoes, i leaned over her shoulder and watched her scrawl "D-A-N-D-O."
"...right. okay... and your first name ?"
i held my breath... could it BE ???
E-V-A-N
when she finished making the reservation & had hung up the phone, i immediately asked, "dude, was that THE evan dando ?? like, the REAL one ???"
"ummm.... not suure.... uh... who's evan dando ?"
*********
word trickled out to the rest of the knights staff that, in a tiny town of surfies and winos, we were going to be graced by rock mediocrity !! everyone was beside themselves with mid-range curiosity and low-level excitement. the only problem was that nobody really knew quite exactly what he looked like... with my vague recollection of a long-haired pretty boy riding a gondola in the "mrs. robinson" video, i was nominated to confirm or deny his identity. except, when he checked in i was cleaning a suite on the other side of the complex !!
with luck on our side, he requested a room change [after using the hot tub and all the clean towels, of course] and i was to meet him at the new room with his new keys. i felt absolutely confident that i would be able to make a positive ID... until... what's this ?? a man with a shaggy beard AND glasses ?? but... but... how can i mentally remove both without STARING ???
the staff was devastated by the inconclusive results, but the kitchen boys still drew a face on a lemon, placed on the tray when he ordered room service, and the chambermaid girls still fought over who got to wash his filthy dishes. by the fourth day when he emerged, clean shaven, to play darts in the pub with his woman, i nodded and grinned to myself --100% certain in the knowledge that earlier that morning, i'd folded THE evan dando's pants whilst making his bed.
yep.
one day (in such a wardrobe changing rush), the receptionist who was finishing her shift took one last call. "...certainly... yes... last name, please ? ... dando ? can you spell that for me ?"
as i slipped on my six-dollar sally-ann 'dress' shoes, i leaned over her shoulder and watched her scrawl "D-A-N-D-O."
"...right. okay... and your first name ?"
i held my breath... could it BE ???
E-V-A-N
when she finished making the reservation & had hung up the phone, i immediately asked, "dude, was that THE evan dando ?? like, the REAL one ???"
"ummm.... not suure.... uh... who's evan dando ?"
*********
word trickled out to the rest of the knights staff that, in a tiny town of surfies and winos, we were going to be graced by rock mediocrity !! everyone was beside themselves with mid-range curiosity and low-level excitement. the only problem was that nobody really knew quite exactly what he looked like... with my vague recollection of a long-haired pretty boy riding a gondola in the "mrs. robinson" video, i was nominated to confirm or deny his identity. except, when he checked in i was cleaning a suite on the other side of the complex !!
with luck on our side, he requested a room change [after using the hot tub and all the clean towels, of course] and i was to meet him at the new room with his new keys. i felt absolutely confident that i would be able to make a positive ID... until... what's this ?? a man with a shaggy beard AND glasses ?? but... but... how can i mentally remove both without STARING ???
the staff was devastated by the inconclusive results, but the kitchen boys still drew a face on a lemon, placed on the tray when he ordered room service, and the chambermaid girls still fought over who got to wash his filthy dishes. by the fourth day when he emerged, clean shaven, to play darts in the pub with his woman, i nodded and grinned to myself --100% certain in the knowledge that earlier that morning, i'd folded THE evan dando's pants whilst making his bed.
yep.
posted by walkinvisible at 8:25 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home