When
there was no response after my third knock, I experienced a familiar sinking
feeling. Under the category “no show,” my database reveals 47 entries.
I
phoned the guest, but there was no answer. At the front desk, the clerk assured
me that I had the correct room and that they had no idea where the guest might
be. A security officer opened the room and confirmed that it was empty.
For
mysterious reasons, guests occasionally wait downstairs. I wandered through the
lobby and restaurants. With my beard, suit, and black bag, I look exactly like
a doctor, and now and then my quarry jumps up and identifies him or herself.
Not this time.
“When
do you plan to arrive?” asked a desk clerk who phoned an hour later, adding
that my guest had been waiting in the lobby. When I spoke to the guest, he
insisted that he’d “told the hotel” where he could be found.
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