(Well “typical” in my world, that is.)
He had the motive: His years were advanced, but the fire still burned. He had the opportunity: Specifically, a nimble young strawberry blonde minx splayed across a hotel couch, her nubile young body aching to put the “love” in loveseat. But what the question remained: “Did he have the means?”
SIXTY-TWO-YEAR-OLD GUEST WHO WAS WAAAY OUT OF HIS LEAGUE: (My presence was irrelevant; his shirt was open, his socks were off and his belt was undone.) Hey, buddy, you look like a guy that’s seen a lot. Can I ask you a question?
THE HOOK: You can call me The Hook, sir. Everyone else does. And yes, you can.
STAN: (He looked like a “Stan” and besides, “Sixty-Two-Year-Old-Guest-Who-Was-Waaay-Out-Of-His-League”, is a mouthful, right?) Great! My question is, You see the little treat I got waiting for me, right?
THE HOOK: Yes, she looks quite delectable, sir. (Actually, she looked tasty, but devoid of any nutritional value.) Was that your question, sir?
STAN: Hell, no! My question is pretty straightforward. Man-to-man, how do I make a twenty-two-year-old raging nympho happy?
THE HOOK: Get her two or three twenty-two-year-old men. And maybe a twenty-two-year-old female, just for good measure.
STAN: (Dumbstruck and slack-jawed.) Well that’s pretty bold!
THE HOOK: Is there any other way to be, sir?
STAN: (After a moment of pondering.) Nah, you’re right! Here’s five bucks. Now get lost, ya bold prick!
THE HOOK: As you wish.
And that, kids, is how a professional, award-winning bellman conducts himself in the modern age.
See you in the lobby, kids…
Aw, what the hell, here’s two more for good measure:
What can I say? I’m a guy through and through.