“What are you wearing?”
I’m wearing shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops, but I’m not sure why the fella checking me in at the Best Western should give a darn. I look up after considering this for a moment, befuddled.
“What scent are you wearing?” He, a man in his mid-20’s who could play on the offensive line at most Division II schools, says this as if he is clearing up the confusion instead of adding to the awkwardness.
I have been kayaking all day in the rain, working on a feature for Glucose Magazine. I smell of sunscreen (I know it was raining but those are the days that you can really get burnt), sweat, and a little BO. I stink a little. Mine is a scent that should be politely ignored, not complemented.
“You smell, woodsy. A good sort of woodsy.”
I don’t know what to say, but eek out, “Thanks.”
I take my key card, grab my bags and head for my room.
After about 15 minutes the phone rings. “This is a courtesy call from the front desk. Do you need anything?”
I’ve stayed at a few Best Western’s in my day and this is the first in which I received a post-check-in courtesy call.
“I’m good.” I hang up the phone, walk to the door. I lock the deadbolt and insert the chain lock.
I’m wearing shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops, but I’m not sure why the fella checking me in at the Best Western should give a darn. I look up after considering this for a moment, befuddled.
“What scent are you wearing?” He, a man in his mid-20’s who could play on the offensive line at most Division II schools, says this as if he is clearing up the confusion instead of adding to the awkwardness.
I have been kayaking all day in the rain, working on a feature for Glucose Magazine. I smell of sunscreen (I know it was raining but those are the days that you can really get burnt), sweat, and a little BO. I stink a little. Mine is a scent that should be politely ignored, not complemented.
“You smell, woodsy. A good sort of woodsy.”
I don’t know what to say, but eek out, “Thanks.”
I take my key card, grab my bags and head for my room.
After about 15 minutes the phone rings. “This is a courtesy call from the front desk. Do you need anything?”
I’ve stayed at a few Best Western’s in my day and this is the first in which I received a post-check-in courtesy call.
“I’m good.” I hang up the phone, walk to the door. I lock the deadbolt and insert the chain lock.
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