ENTER two pasty, flabby, middle-agers. Maybe Canadian? Judging by their clown-like spectacular exit, nay, falling out of their vehicle, they appear to already enjoying that resort life. The female, maybe wife? The "wife" is borderline catatonic. And drooling. Her bug eyes remind me of a comic book villain, as does her obvious and recent surgery. She's here to show off the goods. And no sooner is she vertical, as she falls onto the pavement, like dropping a sack of potatoes.
The "husband" is the real piece of work though. It takes him a minute to look down and find her, as she laughs and drools on the ground. He tosses his keys (from their obviously rented Tesla) to valet. And misses. By over 3m. It was not so much a throw, as a slightly powered drop. I have seen children with better throwing arms.
They manage to get the wife up off the ground, not so much through his help- even from across the lobby, he is clearly lacking muscle mass. Guiding his pop-eyed golem through the lobby with one arm, I can only describe their path as circuitous. As they near the desk, the man comes into focus. Hair plugs. Gangly. Somehow already sunburned. Left arm slightly more toned. A schnoz one could land the Concorde on.
His ample paunch plops itself about the countertop. His breath reeks of mid-tier whiskey and beef jerky. And semen.
This is a man who has not worked a day in his life.
"Good day, mate!" drawls the buffoon in some bizarre accent. Maybe trying for Texan? Oklahoman? Definitely not Canadian. Probably a culturallly enriched Twin Cities sister that thinks he's clever. "This purty lady and I have a reservation for this here resort." He does a wink that says more than a thousand words. But the first word is dumbass.
"Wonderful. We of course welcome you to Hedonism II-"
"YOU SAID WE WERE GOING TO HEDONSIM III, YOU LYING SACK OF SHIT!" bellows the bug-eyed battle-axe.
"Kay-"
"WE AGREED MY NAME IS MANDY ON THIS TRIP!!!! REEEEEEE!!!!!!!"
A polite cough cuts the banshee off. "*Your* name, sir?"
"Ni--" He mimics my polite cough. "Rick!"
"Very good, Rick. And your surname?"
"Oh, I'm not a knight! But I do enjoy-" He snickers. "- a bit of fun at night!"
His hag cackles.
"That is to say, your last name, sir?"
"Oh! Of course! It's uh. Ball. Doe. Man. Yeah! That's it! It's Balldoughman. Rick Balldoughman."
"Is that hyphenated?"
"Of course!"
"Ball-Doughman. What intriguing surnames," I note as I flag their reservation card, 'EXPECT ROOM DAMAGE.'
"It's Poli-"
His shrew stomps his foot.
"I mean, it's uh, German. Yes. German. Jewish."
"Of course it is, Mr. Ball-Doughman. Mazel tov."
"And also with you!"
Suppressing an audible groan and an eye roll, I activate 4 room cards, as they will no doubt lose them all before the night is over. "Rick" holds out his hand, and I note the tan line where his wedding ring would normally be. "Here are your room keys. Your luggage will be up shortly, and your complimentary snack tray will be waiting for you."
He somehow drops 3 of the cards.
"Enjoy your stay at Hedonism-" The sweat starts to pour down his schnoz "- Resort."
"Wonderful!" After the third attempt, his shaky hand manages to gather up the dropped key cards. "Come along, Mandy. We have to get you prepped!"
"WOOOOOO!!!!!"
It would have been more appropriate had she mooed.