THE COLONY

First of all, I didn't see any damn celebrities like Michelle hinted I would.

Secondly, I had to wear a huge and billowing Hawaiian shirt that draped over my shorts, giving me the appearance of a dumpy and thick-legged retarded person. It was also in the high nineties--with ninety percent humidity, and we help were strictly forbidden to swim in the Gulf until after our betters had finished frolicking in the surf.

Thirdly, the event was some rich kid's Bar Mitzvah, and we help were treated like "the help"--which we were, but still...

Fourth, our manager was too busy snorting cocaine with the owner to take care of any problems. My lemon shortage was dismissed as frivolous, as I recall.

The only amusing thing was hearing about a certain bellboy who got caught whacking off in one of the luxury suites that overlooked the Gulf. I guess he was putting the luggage in the room when the couple came in and started going at it--undressing so quickly that he (the bellboy) couldn't make an escape without revealing he'd seen them in a state of nature. So he hid in the closet or in the bathroom and watched them fuck. Accordingly, he became turned on himself, whipped it out, and started spanking it. Apparently they heard him and called security. Wham! Just like that--No more bellboy.

I did hear, however, that they hired him back on once the couple had left.

 

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