Rule Number 2: Don't Admit to Any Legal or Moral Wrongdoing.

When the night-shift rolls in, unique patrons roll with it.

Case and point.

On a slow winter night, a wiry guy strolled into the lobby and without saying hello made some, um..peculiar, requests.

"I need three things," the man demanded with his ring, middle and index fingers flung toward me. "A smoking room...porn...and safety."

He spoke like a fast-talking hick just without the twang and straw coming from the side of his mouth.

"I can only give you one of those sir," I replied slightly confused yet oddly amused.

"PORN?" He excitedly yelped.

"No, sir," I chuckled back. "I can do safety but we are all non-smoking and we don't have any adult films."

"Well, hell, I'll just go somewhere else. You know, most of the time I just smoke in the room anyway. You see, I don't smoke cigarettes or weed dude. I like to party. D'ya know what I'm talking about?"

"Ehh, I guess." I didn't.

"Well, you like to party or what? You look like you like to party," he said without waiting for my answer. "If you give me a deal, I'll let you party with me, if you know what I mean."

At this point I had realized I was not at risk of an over the counter shanking and simply apologized but I could not give a deal.

"Well, can you at least tell me where I can get some porn?"

"There is a blockbuster in town," I replied.

"BLOCKBUSTER?!?! Shit, I need the real stuff bro!"

And with that, he turned and left the Sketch Hotel.

Rule 1: Know What Hotel You Are Stepping Into...Or Waking Up

Before any interaction with a nice, respectful and generally helpful front-desk clerk like myself, please...no, wait....please god, know what hotel you have walked into.

Case and Point.

At 4:13 a.m., my sleep was breached by a visitor. I worked the night-bell and these things happen. Drunks need rooms to make mistakes. Travelers give up on finding the right way and escape being lost with a shower and some sleep. Or a neighbor trudges in after being booted from the house for a night after an intense argument.
On this particular night, it happened to be a traveler.
"How can I help you?" I asked through the night window in mumbly sleep talk.
"Are you George?" He asked.
"No," I replied.
"Did we talk a minute ago?" I didn't say a word because I thought my bloodshot eyes, side-show bob hair and blank stair would tip him off that I had just woken up. It didn't.
"No," I replied again.
"Are you sure?" Really guy. Am I sure we didn't talk? I wanted to yell, 'I'm sleeping you idiot. You know, Americas number one activity between the times of 2 and 6 a.m.!!!" But I didn't.
"Can I help you sir?" He got the hint and got straight to his grand point.
"Is this the DoubleTree?" He blurted out with a confused and wrinkled brow.
I stood in shock. I looked straight at him dumbfounded. I then looked at the giant, brightly lit sign he just passed in the driveway that clearly, even if it were badly misspelled, did not say DoubleTree. I then looked down at my work-polo I had slipped on a minute prior that read something not even remotely resembling the DoubleTree.
I looked back at him with my mouth parted in disbelief. It's the look one gives just before screaming after being puked on.
I didn't say anything in response. I simply shook my head and closed the window slowly. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Will it ever happen again? Who knows...But please, don't make that mistake. There is always some poor soul behind the desk who has to answer that ridiculous question.

-Topher