Here’s what you need to understand.
We are extremely nice people.
It’s helpful to know that because, should you ever meet us,
you can say, “We’ve heard extremely nice things about you. Oh, wait! That was from you.”
After which we will laugh and feel silly, and then gradually
move on.
That attribution – okay, self-attribution
– of being extreme nice people relates directly to the Kahala Hotel and Resort in Honolulu Hawaii burglarization of our
hotel room, which I shall explain to you shortly.
Oh, heck, I’ll explain it right now. Sorry.
I am still a bit wobbly from the experience, which, among other things,
plays damaging havoc with my narrative timeline.
Here’s what you need to know beyond “We are extremely nice people”, the combined elements triggering
seminal consequences for this unfortunate happenstance.
The collaborating factor is the following:
Closing your door at the Kahala
Hotel and Resort in Honolulu Hawaii, if you just let the thing go, the door
builds increasing momentum, reaching its terminal destination with an
ear-shattering slam.
Since, as frequently mentioned, we are extremely nice
people, when we departed our hotel room, particularly in the morning or later
in the evening, in order not to spare the peace and tranquility of our
neighbors, we adopted the habit of physically holding the closing door, it thereby ending its journey with an
untroubling “click.”
The door is thus closed.
And no one around us is disturbed.
Is that “extremely nice people”, or what?
The consequent problem – which ultimately resulted in the
burglary – is that, after that signaling “click” the hotel room door is indeed thus
closed.
But it is not, it turns out, totally locked.
“Totally locked” requires two “clicks.”
Moving away after one
“click” means that if someone with evil intentions pushes on that seemingly “locked”
but actually just “closed” door, they can slip right into your hotel room.
An easy burglarizing opportunity. Caused by a particular door-locking system
and two extremely nice people, bent on not troubling their neighbors.
Reconstructing the crime, it would appear that, with the
door at some point left inadvertently unlocked, the burglars surreptitiously entered
our hotel room, absconding with Dr. M’s purse, containing, most significantly,
her wallet and all her I.D., and my Major
Dad commemorative Christmas gift shoulder bag, containing, most
significantly, my wallet and all my
I.D.
On the January 1st morning of the recent New Year,
looking around for my Major Dad commemorative
shoulder bag to take to the beach after breakfasting at the Plumeria Beach House, I suddenly realized
the commemorative shoulder bag was missing.
It was, however, only when Dr. M discovered that her purse was also missing that we concluded – not that a geriatrical mishap on my part had transpired but, ruling out simultaneous geriatrical mishaps as being
unlikely (though not impossible) – we had instead unequivocally been robbed.
And now, a break. As
opposed to a break-in. I’m just taking a break.
Tomorrow, we meet Reggie and Joseph, the Kahala Hotel and Resort in Honolulu
Hawaii’s crack Security Team.
From whom we learn of the distinguishing “door clicks.”
And that we were unlikely to catch the nefarious perpetrators
or have any of our missing personal items returned.
They did not literally confirm that.
But, spending substantial time in their sleuthological
company,
It seemed very unlikely.
Oh, yeah. Why did I
take my wallet placed in my now stolen Major
Dad commemorative shoulder bag to the beach?
To give the on-site attendants transporting our beach
loungers a generous reward.
Because, Lord knows, we are extremely nice people.
A laudable attribute that, in the context of this story,
insufficiently paid off.
To be continued…
And hopefully concluded, because remembering this is
upsetting my stomach.
1 comment:
Let me guess - The first thing Reggie and Joseph said was, "The safety and security of our guests is our number one priority."
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