Jane III

A lot of Jane's time was spent in the lobby, or having Peter accompany her to expensive restaurants, and she was 'oaked', as they say. Having two entrées wasn't unusual for her, and one bottle of champagne was unthinkable for her. She had two appartments and an empty house in town, but preferred to live in the hotel and terrorise everyone. Once in a while she would check into a hospital of her choice as a private patient... just for the hell of it and terrorise them for a month. Getting 'rejuvenated'. Once she fell in her room and broke her wrist and called me up there, ripped the door open, and was screaming 'Look what I just did! Call a doctor!' flapping her hand back and forth, which couldn't have been good for her. It was so grisly, I nearly vomited.

But mostly, she would sit in a niche in back of the reception desk, downing beers, and inventing pedigrees for everyone working there, and some of the regular customers. I, of course, was of russian descent in her opinion. But the very best one, which she began as a short bio and embroidered on over time and blew into epic proportions involved 'da Ven'. I always wondered why he never told me what he did in the War...

It turns out, ya see, he was russian, of course. But he was 'from the wrong side of the Urals', a Cossack, in other words. And there was a massive fight between the Cossacks and the Germans on the Drau river in the state of Carynthia. 'And the river ran RED, with blood.' And she would relate it in a breathless sort of way, really living her tale.

Well, to make a long story short, my honourable father escaped the massacre, you see. Yup, he did, traveling by night over mountain ridges and hiding on mountain meadows by day, being protected by rubinesque shepardesses, 'churning their butter.' So, Ven, what was the story with that last, huh? Sounded lascivious to your son's ears. (wink).

Aaand he finally reached the Atlantic, sailed to Amerika, which took weeks, of course, married a Black Woman, and landed in 'The steel combines of Pennsylvania', where his children grew up in the slums. Which she always pronounced 'slooms'. She 'recognised' him immediately the first time he visited. 'He was at the head of them when they marched in. With a red star on his cap.' (Were you a general, or something, what gives?)

I really messed up during that visit. He arrived in a suit. I wanted to take him out the next day to an open-air museum in the hills outside of town, and told him to put on something casual. She was sitting on the bench at the tram stop across the street, so she was checking us out boarding it, and immediately reported to Peter. 'Just one day here, and he ruins his father. Such an elegant man, and today? Dressed like rabble.' She was disgusted, I tells ya.

This story had 'da Ven' in stitches, and I think it sorta tickled him silly. It really was one of her best, and there were others now long gone who knew us and her, and were absolutely delighted at the nuttiness of it.

Another involved the hotel secretary. It involved her being rowed down the Zambesi river in Afrika by huge muscular Nubians, and there were crocodiles involved, approaching the canoe, and of course there was the biggest Nubian of all keeping the rowing tact by beating drums. (I wonder what Hollywood epic that one came from???) And yeah, the crocodiles were approaching to have her for lunch, but when they saw her.... 'They turned away, disgusted. No meat on the bones, they said, not for us.' (Well, she was thin... you see...) She had a really mean twist on that story, regarding why she had never had children. It involved those huge Nubians. I'll leave the rest to your imagination, just the quote 'They ruined her, so she wasn't capable.'

It's sort of odd, was just thinking... whether you worked in a cinema chain, or public service like a hotel.... there were always people that you and the staff turned into a bonding thing. Were the stories mean-spirited? Oh yes, at base they were. But sometimes even mean-spirited oddity can delight you to the point where you just shake your head and laugh whole-heartedly. And turn it into the things legends are made of.

Things turned sort of ugly when Peter and I sort of clicked. She knew, oh boy, did she know. Because she was possessive, and ready to fight for all the attention he could give her. And I would stay after shifts, and we'd talk, and she was getting so green-eyed jealous, we had to be extra careful. I spotted her one evening coming in for her tryst, and she had seen me slip into the room behind the desk, wanted to pretend I'd already gone. But she knew and flew into a rage, 'Listener at the wall... hears his own shame!' she screamed. (In German, that rhymes, btw.) 'I'll KILL him! I'll KILL him!.'

Well, obviously she didn't, but it sure changed things regarding the workplace, that's for sure.