I Think I Have Become Required Reading; Another Day in the Life of Alexis McBride; the Audain Museum; I am Officially Cute; and a Fond Farewell to Godfrey

So just to orient you this is my Friday. I am getting much better at this – this being oriented to time and place. Time and place is psychological jargon – simply put it means: the knowledge of where the h*** you are and what you might be doing there. So for me it is Friday and i am in bed writing. 
It has suddenly occurred to me that I have become required reading at the Trump International Hotel. A few minutes ago I asked for the removal of the breakfast tray and dishes. A wonderful young woman arrived , I told her that I was writing from bed and not just being lazy. She said: “I read your blogs.” Again, cry and almost faint, but then, after she left, I scratched my head and used it for more than a hat rack (old fashioned phrase). It seems all of the staff in this hotel read my blogs. It must be required reading. There is a distinct possibility as this hotel is so well managed. I am writing a complicated piece comparing my long term stay in this hotel versus/against a long term stay in a London hotel, the Montague. That particular hotel is on Montague Street, across the street from the British Museum. If you wager, you might play with the notion of which of these two hotels will be found to be the best. Guess which one wins?   

More about the day. After sending the daily blog to Chris in London I went down to LL (lower lobby) and checked with Benjamin, the concierge of the moment. We discussed what I should do with my day and concluded I should order room service breakfast and stay “in” and write. Then, (as I follow directions quite well at times), upstairs I went upon the elevator (joke) picked up the phone and asked for the California Eggs. Have you ever been in a restaurant, ordered food and had the server say: ‘Good Choice’? I personally find that rather off putting but that might just be me. I said Good Choice to myself after tasting those eggs. Perfection and with mashed potatoes. Nothing could be better than that…and I mean nothing. 
Benjamin told me the greatest story and he gave me permission to blog it. In the early days of this hotel’s operation a woman called the concierge, extremely upset and said that she could not believe it! There were feces, on her pillow and on the sheets. (Feces was not the term that Benjamin and I used but we were using some decorum) Of course, this efficient hotel sent up the hazardous material team immediately. But this is what they found. The hotel, at that time, placed chocolates on the pillows of the guests. Apparently this woman did not notice and placed her face and head upon the chocolates, fell promptly asleep and the heat of her body caused the chocolates to melt. Se then awoke and had a feces scare. Benjamin and I laughed! I remembered the phrase: “ they think their feces does not stink.” This rises to a whole new level. This woman thought feces were chocolate. I am a staunch feminist but some woman are quite stupid.


Stories like this make me very happy I was a lawyer and not in the hospitality business. 
The day droned on. (joke) Hordes of people here at the hotel for the U2 concert. Gentle reader, I the great classical music listener, totally love U2. Their songs rescued me from dreadful times in London. Come with us, said dozens of fans headed to Canada Place to hear U2. “Nope, I cannot handle the excitement at my age.” I was being serious. Tickets were at a serious premium. It seems to be the event of the century. To the latecomers I said: “Plan ahead!”
Some words about Whistler. One could have not picked a more rotten day to go there than the day before yesterday. It was pouring. But i had my wicked way. I spent the day in two places, both of which were indoors. One was the Audain Museum. It is architecturally an amazing building. A blurb about the place says: “Merely a fledgling, just seven months old and has already welcomed more than 30,000 people to view the permanent collection of 200 artworks from coastal British Columbia.” My focus was upon a special exhibit. Fred Herzog’s Shadowlands. He is a Vancouver photographer who took color photographs of street scenes, mainly Vancouver in the 1950s and 1960s. The images were stunning, entrancing and involving. I devoured the pictures on the walls and then sat in the gallery and read the thick juicy book showing hundreds more of his images. There is a picture of the space. Honest to goodness, a man sat opposite me with his back to the trees and played with his phone. It was highly amusing, not irritating. 
But then this woman really irritated me. She was taking a picture of the quote shown below. Art gallery staff gently reminded her that she was not supposed to be using flash. She looked at the window with his beautiful shape and displaying the outdoor trees. She asked staff if she could take a flash picture out the window. I intervened telling her that she was putting him in an awkward position, that if exceptions were made then the policy would be rendered inoperative. She sneered at me: “I was asking him!” He acquiesced, she took the picture. But think, oh gentle photographers, the reflection from the window would bounce back the flash. She got a feces picture, not like the one you see here. 

I had a jolly time making fun of this woman behind her back to the great staff at the Audain Museum and later at the Brewpub across the street. It was a great luncheon experience with , fish and chips, fine staff and interesting decor including a train (toy) that ran around near the ceiling. Jess, Emily and I laughed at the foibles of stupid people, be they male or female. I am a staunch feminist but I do not condone stupid women. Stupidity is not an intellectual matter. Stupidity consists of rude and unthinking behavior. 
At this moment it is Saturday morning and I write from bed again. Last evening I did ask Patrick if his comments about cuteness were directed towards me or the dog. He laughed and said: “Ms. McBride, you know it was you. I looked you in the eye and said it directly to you.” Then to make it perfectly clear he said it four more times. Anyone can clearly see why I do love living here at the Trump International Hotel, even if the staff is visually challenged. 
Last night was Godfrey’s last night. I have no idea what this hotel will do without him. He performed his duties with such grace and care and made everyone feel welcomed and cherished. I do not know what I will do without him but he punched his data into my phone. I need him for advice. There is a division of authority between Godfrey and Triple C. Cousin Gail suggested that Triple C was easier than C.C.C. and she is right. He has consented. Triple C stands for Chief Clydesdale Concierge (please see prior posts). 
Onward with the day. Triple C. is on duty. We had a minor email tiff, I said I would not fire him but threatened to place him on probation. He objected, I gave in for reasons other than the ones he used. 

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