"well, you're a whore."

Is what I should have responded when she was blathering about how I just work in a hotel and can't have clients like she does. Ah, l'esprit de scalier.

 

Rewind thirty minutes. I was minding my business and the Lol-iday Inn's when I noticed some weirdness outside involving a cab. Two rather disreputable types came inside: a Latoya-channeling tranny in a short black jumpsuit with a white marabou bra hanging out the top, and a thuggish and somewhat high seeming young black man. The tranny barked, "Call us a GreenCab" at me, then proceeded with her phone call. The young man stood in front of the desk staring blankly.

"Are you guys staying here?

"Uhhhh, yeah."

"In what room?"

"398"

"There is no room 398 here."

"I forgot, but we are staying here."

"Well, what's your name? I'll look it up."

"Davante."

"Davante what?"
"Uh, Sills."

"Well, there's no one here registered under that name."

"We just need a cab."

Meanwhile, during this exchange, I can hear the tranny jabbering into her phone about "the bitch at the hotel" who isn't calling her a cab. Well, forget that.

"You can use that phone there to call a cab," I told them, pointing at the house phone.

Staring me down, the tranny declared, "I don't have a number." (How unprofessional for her not to!)

Smiling beatifically, I replied, "I can give you one."

She stalked over to the house phone muttering rather audibly about a "dumb bitch too lazy to call me a cab," so I stopped her.

"On second thought, you can just leave."
"Yeah, we can!" she fired back, walking back over to the desk where her escort was still standing. Confusedly, he asked, "Where we going?"

"Some CUNT won't call us a cab," she told him in ringing tones, looking at me for emphasis when she said "cunt"--just in case I was unsure to whom she was referring.

"Seriously, I am so offended. You guys just need to leave."

Then they started tag-teaming me: "You fat bitch!" "I'm here to see a client, and you act like that, bitch!" "Get some contacts, bitch!" "Maybe if you weren't so ugly, you could get clients, too!" "You work in a fuckin' hotel, who're you?" (That's where I ought to have said, "Well, you're a whore.")

I simply rolled my eyes during all this, and waved them toward the door, repeating "You need to leave. Get off the property now," over and over again.

She walked out into the parking lot and stood there shouting obscenities at me, it looked like just "cunt" and "bitch" repeated with an occasional, "ugly" thrown in for good measure. He stood in the doorway shouting, closed the door, then opened it again. "What? Say it to my face, bitch!"

"I just said it to your face like fifty times, dumbass: leave. Get out."

At that, he threw a handful of Skittles at me, shouting, "Clean it up, bitch! You're just a fuckin' housekeeper!" He then tried to slam the door shut, but failed, and banged on it a few times instead.

While they stood out there, I picked up the phone and dialed non-emergency, pointing at it and mouthing, "I'm calling the cops for their benefit.

Someone then came to check in, which looked lovely I'm sure, and while I was checking those nice folks in, wanna-be Latoya and her pal took off westward on Stark--toward 82nd, no surprise. I was pleasantly surprised to see the cops arrive very quickly, within about five minutes of my call. I had told them I wasn't in any immediate physical danger, but that they were causing a disturbance. One of the cops was a gentleman who comes in regularly to pick up a guest roster, and he was very sympathetic. He shook his head over their throwing candy at me. After I pointed them in the right direction, he said they'd try to find them, and both cops cars took off down Stark.