As my recovery continues, I decided it would be instructive to see how I might survive a New Years Eve celebration. Checking into the hotel made me question the wisdom of my decision.
The lobby was filled with really loud, really rough, looking people covered with tattoos, all wearing leathers proclaiming them to be members of the Warthogs Motorcycle Club (Michigan Chapter), and giving the poor front desk clerk an afternoon I'm sure he won't forget judging by the perspiration streaming down his face.
Heading to the room, it seemed they followed us and the volume outside our door would rise to almost intolerable levels and then diminish...briefly...before it would rise once again. It was only 4:00pm and these animals were already out of control. I could only imagine what it was going to be like at 2:00am.
At 6:30pm, I left the room to meet the taxi coming to take me to the celebration...hallway empty, lobby empty, all quiet. Outside I noticed a large bus and the night manager, who told me she was frightened at the prospect of having to deal with the Warthogs, reported the club had boarded the bus for their party.
After the bus left, one smaller member of the club (loaded with tats) came rushing into the lobby and asked if the bus had gone. Upon learning he had missed the ride, he decided we wanted to talk to him. Oh joy............
Turns out the Warthogs are an international motorcycle club composed of police, fire, corrections and Officers of the Court personnel from the US, Canada, and Norway. Our new friend was a patrol officer from inner city Detroit. After about 15 minutes of conversation, I couldn't question these brave servants, who literally put their lives on the line for us everyday, having a right to blow off a little steam. I just wasn't very happy they were going to blow it off outside my door all night.
On returning to the hotel at 1:00am, the Warthogs had set up the Bloody Mary station in the lobby for the next morning...but were not in sight. The entire night there was not a sound in the hallway...not a sound. In fact, I wondered if they were still partying.
In the lobby the next morning they were gathering and everyone greeted me with a, "Good morning, Sir (do I look that old?), Happy New Year." It was truly a "judging a book by it's cover" lesson for me. Courtesy and respect were the only behaviors I encountered.
If I see someone in a Warthogs vest in the future, I'll remember my conversation with the Detroit cop who had been stabbed several times, shot a few more, and under daily threat in an effort to ensure peace and maintain order. I wouldn't do it...glad someone will. Thanks, Warthogs.
As far as my recovery evening, although I got pretty tired after a few fast dances later in the evening, I held up better than expected making it all the way to midnight and a celebration to have 2011 behind me and the promise of 2012 before me sans prostate (had to mention it at least once). Happy New Year!
No comments:
Post a Comment