I was out of town on business before the holidays and as so many times before I stayed at a W Hotel. From the first time I ever stepped foot in one of those places I said, “the lobby is like you're the last one at the club when the music's still on, and they're just cleaning up the mess.” The one in San Francisco delivered just as they all do, but I had a noteworthy doosh encounter.
After a long day at the office, I decided to have a couple of drinks and retire for the night. In my attempt to get back up to my "Wonderful" room I met "Mean German Doosh" and his glittery shirt wearing friend. [His friend might have been a doosh too, but I have decided to be a bigger person and give him the benefit of the doubt. For those of you who'd vote doosh just from the fashion alone - you have to remember he was European, and they, by nature, dress a little fruity.]
So, Doosh and friend were in an open elevator, while my boss and I were trying to get upstairs. We pushed the up button as usual and after a couple of dings we headed in the elevator with the ambiguously gay duo. They apparently were perturbed by the fact that we jumped in their little scene. [We didn't realize we were disturbing anything.] Everybody was just trying to get upstairs.
There was another "DING" and some other peeps joined us in the elevator - making the occupancy total, 6 [under the maximum weight limit]. This is when the German doosh started mouthing off that he was German and German’s don’t tolerate others getting in the same elevator, while his black light responsive friend cackled at our expense.
My boss and I refused to be in such close proximity to Euro-trash doosh, so we pried open the door and dashed out of there while we still had the chance. I think some doosh-esque expletives were exchanged, but we came out alive, modestly irritated and largely entertained.
Much like the W Hotel chain itself, Doosh and ½ doosh were just trying a little too hard to be cool. Cue the Krautrock.
