For a young girl experiencing life on her own, working at the airport hotel presented some exceptional experiences. I knew when I took the job, there would be many times when guys would flirt with me and do everything they could to get me into their rooms. And yes, some of them were even successful in doing just that, but working the evening shift and checking in all those business travelers would also present situations that would leave an indelible mark on me.
Let me first explain the layout. It has changed a lot since then, but in the 1980's, when you exited the airport where I went to college, there were 2 hotels right next to each other. Both were three-story hotels. Down the road maybe a quarters of a mile was another old mom and pop type hotel and a 24-hour diner that had been there for years. Everything else was at least 3 or 4 miles away towards the city, so the area was pretty isolated. Where I worked was just a two story hotel and a swimming pool, nothing else. But the three story hotel across the parking lot from us also had a swimming pool, a restaurant and a nightclub they called The Hideout. The nightclub wasn't much and there were rarely ever more than a few people there at once, but for business travelers, especially those without a rental car, it was the only option available. The whole time I worked at the hotel, the restaurant part was boarded up, so the diner down the road was all there was.
Another thing I quickly learned was that we had a lot of regular customers – sales reps, district managers – that sort of thing. They were men mostly, but an occasional business woman of some sort would come through. If you made an effort to be friendly with them, which I always did, I'm just an outgoing sort of person, they would usually be friendly back to you and often the men would flirt a bit before going up to their rooms. Over time, you would get to know them, at least on a casual basis.
One of the first men I got to know anything about was a man named Paul Johnson (not his real last name). Paul was in his fifties. He was a very distinguished looking gentleman. He was tall, about 6'1" or 6'2", thin built with just a hint of a few extra pounds that come with age, but still very fit, and he had salt and pepper hair. He was always extremely well groomed and wore a tailored business suit. With my grandmother being a seamstress, I noticed that type of thing. In fact, our very first conversation was about his suit and my mention that my grandmother was known for her suit making. Paul was also a bit soft spoken, but when he did speak, his baritone voice and slight southern accent were dripping with eloquence that would catch any woman's attention. Perhaps his most noticeable feature, at least to me, was his grey/blue eyes that looked like he could see right through your soul.
At the time, the air traffic controllers had gone on strike that summer. You may recall that President Reagan fired them because of all of the problems their strike was causing with business travel and the economy. It took them a long time for things to get back to normal and Paul got caught up in that one evening and didn't arrive at the hotel to check in until after 10:00 that night.
When he came in, I could tell he was visibly upset about something. He just wasn't the friendly man he had been the few other times we had visited. I went through the registration process, and tried to make small talk, but his answers were short and to the point. He wasn't being rude, but it was obvious he was upset.
As we were wrapping things up and I gave him his room key, I took somewhat of a bold step. His left hand was on the counter and I reached over and placed my right hand on top of his.
"Mr. Johnson, is everything okay." I asked.
This seemed to catch him off guard a bit. He peered at me with those beautiful eyes, paused as he took a breath, then I felt his thumb close around mine as he pulled my thumb up against the palm of his hand and lightly stroked the backside of it. This minuscule gesture sent a spark through me.
"I'm sorry, ... it's just been a bad trip." And then another pause as we looked into each other's eyes.
I thought he was going to pull his hand away and end the conversation there, but after a few seconds, he opened up.
"My flight was late because of the air traffic controllers. We sat on the tarmac in DFW for two hours waiting on them to get their sh..., get it all together. Then I had to wait in baggage claim about twice as long as normal and by the time I got out of the airport, the car rental place had already closed, so I had to take a taxi. I figured I could just walk down to the diner for something to eat after I got checked in, I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm starving, only to have the taxi driver tell me the diner is closed for remodeling. Is there any chance anyone delivers out here?"
"No, I'm sorry, but let me see what I can do."
He gave me a smile that kind of said he wasn't going to hold his breath, gently squeezed my thumb and thanked me for listening to his problems, then took his bags to his room.
I felt really bad for him and wanted to make his day better if I could.
My relief manager who came on at 11:00 was an older retired guy named Jimmy. Jimmy was a widower and lived about 10 minutes from the hotel. He would usually stop at the drive in by his house and pick up a hamburger and milk shake on his way in. When Mr. Johnson left, I quickly gave Jimmy a call and was surprised when he answered the phone.
"Oh Jimmy, this is Kim at the hotel, you haven't left yet. I'm glad I caught you."
"Hey Kim, what's up?"
"Would you do me a big favor on your way in?"
"Sure what is it?"
"Would you mind picking me up a hamburger and milkshake?"
"Not a problem. I'm just leaving. See you in a bit."
Jimmy got there a little before 11:00 and we did a quick change over. Jimmy just assumed I was hungry and the food was for me and I didn't tell him any different. I figured if I told him it was for a customer, he would ask what room and would deliver it himself. I paid him for the burger and shake and left, but instead of going to my car, I used my master key to go in the side door, then up to the second floor to Mr. Johnson's room.
I knocked on the door, but got no answer. I was afraid maybe Mr. Johnson had left to try and find something to eat, but I knocked a second time and heard, "Who is it?"
"Room service", I said with a smile.
"Just a minute". I think he may have been putting his pants on.
When he opened the door and saw me, he jerked his head back in surprise, "What's this?"
As I suspected, his pants were on but the belt was undone. He also wore a white undershirt and I could see a small tuft of silvery chest hair. There was a hint of shave cream just under his right earlobe.
"I felt really bad for the kind of day you've had so I brought you a hamburger and milk shake. Not exactly a gourmet meal, but at least you won't go to bed hungry" I said.
It really felt good seeing the huge smile come over Mr. Johnson's face and you could see in those steely blue eyes that he truly was appreciative of my gesture.
'Oh my Lord, how very considerate of you!" As he took the sack and drink from me and sat them on the dresser. I stood awkwardly in the open doorway.
As he turned back to face me, he immediately pulled his wallet from his back pocket, "Here, how much do I owe you?"
"Oh no, this is my treat. I just wanted to make your bad day end on a good note."
Then he stepped forward and leaned down to hug me and said, "Well, you've certainly done that!"
His body was solid and I could smell the soap he had washed his face with.
