1er Concurso de Relatos Hotel Villava: Dexter Hotel

Dexter Hotel

John Walker was not a typical tourist at all. He was more of a traveller, a person who searches the
small hidden marvellous beauties of the world. At least, he used to think of himself that way. In his daily life
he was an accountant at a mediocre company, who enjoyed travelling on weekends and holidays. His
middleshort
size would make him remain unnoticed for the rest of the hotel guests. In fact, he was the kind
of guest who usually remained unnoticed for most of the hotel staff too.
Before the hotel façade, fifty meters away, he stood watching what the place looked like, knowing
from his own experience that you should not judge a book for the cover. As usual, he walked straight to the
hotel's receptionist to make arrangements and, after settling down, spend the rest of the day on an exploration
of the most interesting and hidden places in the surroundings. The receptionist was a smart woman with a
certain masculine look; she seemed to be cold and strong, but she introduced herself showing unexpectedly a
tender wide smile.
― Welcome to the Dexter Hotel, sir. My name is Portia Blade and I'll be pleased to satisfy all your
needs to the end... of your stay at the hotel.
― Oh, thank you. I'm Walker, John Walker. I have a reservation for the weekend.
― Oh, yes, yes, yeah!! Welcome, Johnny Walker!!! she
exclaimed at the top of her voice.
Oh, excuse
me, she
added a moment laterI'm
so please to meet you... Just let me check...
The receptionist kept watching the computer screen for some seconds, then she looked at the guest,
then at the screen again, and so on, alternatively, for two long minutes. Mr Walker did not know what to
think. Her exclamation, 'yes, yeah!!' had been too enthusiastic for a professional receptionist; and so had
been her telling him her first name, not to say the way fact that she called him Johnny just to make a cheap
joke. Nevertheless, he had met too many strange people, so he decided to be patient.
Five minutes later, Miss Blade turned to the key holders and held him his room key.
― Room three one three, sir. I hope you'll enjoy with us... your stay in the hotel, I mean.
― Well, thank you.
Her attitude had thrown a shade of doubt on him, but after some moments of meditation, he dared to
make the question.
― Are there any interesting places to visit?
― Yes, sir, there are.
Suddenly, all her enthusiasm had vanished. She seemed to be deeply depressed, sad, or at least
lacking interest in everything.
― Well? he
asked, beginning to feel tired of her reactions.
― Talk to the Tourist Information Officer, sir she
answered in a rude tone.
― Where can I find the office?
― Take the corridor on the right hand side she
said, deeply unkind.
― Your right or my right? insisted
Mr Walker, with an increasing desperation.
― Sure, you're right, Sir.
― Are you drunk or something? inquired
Mr Walker, having reached some suspicions already.
― Yeah right was
her immediate answer, and then she winked at him.
― Sorry? Mr
Walker, despite all his experience in travelling through the country, had never met such
an unprofessional receptionist.
― Oh, I mean your right, Sir and
she remarked the word to avoid any confusion.
Walk past the
Amatxi Cafeteria. The Information Office is opposite the library.
Mr Walker sighed in relief, and thanked her.
― You're welcome, Sir... but you're better drunk from she
added at a low voice as Mr Walker went
away to the right wing of the building.
At the Tourist Information Office, a small room discreetly hidden in the middle of a long corridor,
was a small fat man, middle aged, almost completely bold. Mr Walker thought he was not a typical tourist
officer, who used to be young nice women, but the office did was a typical one, looking in fact almost as a
tiny travel agency.
― Good morning Mr
Walker greeted him politely.
― Good morning. Can I help you?
God thanks, this seems to be a perfectly correct man thought
Mr Walker to himself.
― I'm staying for the weekend, and I'd like to visit some places. Could you give me some information,
please? asked
him as he sat on a chair.
― Yes, of course. Some of the places are the Cathedral, the Council building, the Fueros Monument,
and some museums...
― No, excuse me. I usually prefer peculiar places...
― Well, sir. I know such places... the
tourism officer told him, winking a nasty eye at Mr Walker.
― What places? Mr
Walker asked him, fearing another odd answer.
― Well, I know some places where girls are easy...
― What kind of maniacal perverts are there in this hotel? A drunk receptionist, an obsessed tourist
officer... exclaimed
Mr Walker as he began to consider leaving the hotel at the moment.
― Oh, no, Sir. The maniac is the drunken at your back... answered
the tourist officer unexpectedly.
As Mr Walker turned in his chair, he could only see the sadist expression on the receptionist's face
and a big blade falling on him...

THE END

Juan Andrés Cuevas
Linares (Jaén)