Note: For new readers, "Guest" is a series of real stories about visitors to a prestigious hotel where I worked. Turned into stories, "Guest" rescues the incidents, occurrences, madness, experiences and humanity of a very diverse people. ************************************
Mr. Freeman arrived with his family to spend their holidays. He looked kindly and fortune in the eyes of those who do not have to worry about anything financially yet wrinkled forehead of those with the misfortune of having to worry about all not to lose what they have financially. He had a nice smile, the kind that are so easy to envy, with a well-groomed beard, a friendly and contagious aura of elegance and besides that was very platicón because she loved to show off their spoken. Came dressed in a way you think about those who use it never repeat an outfit. The bride glowed with the same opulence and children were walking a line of perfection. They walked all like robots one after another, very healthy as the father, the few minutes they were going to play around on computers and then spend the rest of the day enjoying the facilities of the hotel behind the mother and chicks behind of mother hen. Happy
them because Mr. Freeman from the first day went and locked himself in our Business Center. Arrived, he greeted me, took out a laptop bag full of brand new sleek and who knows how many gigabytes, and I began to assume the wonder of computer era. Anyone says that with an Apple, I thought. He said it had cost a fortune, but worth it. As I talked seemed aide Chabelo those passing hands over the awards again and again with his sickly smile and bright. "You do not use Macs, that misfortune." I said no desire to humiliate but as pleased to have been yours. He hired the Internet service and went to one of the rooms. We left that day
installing some antennas. In the hotel's Internet service was bad and our mission was changed to be more efficient to reach beyond the seventh floor without our mothers had to take when the ninth seemed to have dial up internet. That day, we were trying to fix the life of one of the guests for a change could not disconnect from their computers or even because out there was a fine breeze and a brilliant beach. Hours passed, managed part of the problem and meanwhile the Freeman family wandered through the gardens, ate shrimp sticks to the edge of the pool and sunning on the beach, while the poor father, I probably still could not get away from work to enjoy paradise Vallarta. us if we did the work aside, we went to the dining room, ate with the foo gossip critical of the department, did desktop, I returned to our Business Center and Mr. Freeman was still in there. To cut a long story short, I left my man turn and stayed there. Almost to leave the woman was to insist to accompany them to walk around the marina, but the man refused.
A very early next day, Mr. Freeman was to do the same thing. I assumed your laptop again and locked in one room. "Poor man, I thought.
Later, I came to accommodate stationery products on our shelf and went with Mr. Freeman. I was sitting there doing nothing more than watching your computer as he presumed. I stared at him for a while because it looked so strange sitting there doing nothing, with his arms folded as if he saw a very good movie. He must have noticed my curiosity turned to me and gave me a smile conductor of the TV. He asked me to come over and then I began to describe his activity that was so busy.
It was a software connected to a network of security cameras installed at home, well, what house, in his "mega residención." "It works via a satellite link," I presume again and then I took a tour around your home. He showed me the garage for who knows how many cars where they rested Mercedes, Porche and Packard. We went on a tour of the large room that paled to the rooms that lined the lobby of the hotel. We came to the kitchen that seemed stolen from a set of Travel Channel. He showed me the gardens, the room of each and every one of their children than bedrooms and toy seemed clear not to mention the study that would leave crying libraries rickety Gandhi. Finally we went to her bedroom where a Siamese cat lying at her ease. "It's his favorite place," he said as he boasts the best of all their children, then touch the monitor to make "Cuchi Cuchi" the cat who had the same hair well combed the beard of his master.
"With the uncertainty as it is, you have to protect their heritage."
"You should take better care of their marriage," I wanted to say. Poor man. That was all it took! There was no work to do and deadlines to meet, was Puerto Vallarta vacation, missing the sun, sand, beach, eye candy, the company of women, children, leisure, fun and all for the desire to be watching the house and routine which wanted to rest. I almost gave entripado combined with cramp and cramp-eye neurons. Mr. Freeman smiled pleased to see the cat grooming and watching the good clean and empty halls of residence and static brightness of luxury cars.
"Nice house," he said, and the man was right.
That afternoon, I swear I did not get to the computer as usual. I went to walk to the beach, soaking the feet from the waves, eat an ice cream and sit in the sand to watch as the day ended. thanked
not have to worry about having little to lose. To vary the prophet came out in me and wrote a poem that I will never forget that there is a world out there and a minute unique gift to us but sometimes we do more to monitor things with less meaning.
I give you this morning
The time when the light fades the night sky
The air becomes water
gives the opportunity to restart this day
gift you the certainty of the sun on the sea
To know that the road
You will be presented, will be created
As the sunset that illuminates the waves
Forming a light path in front of your feet
I give you the afternoon torpor
I give you the minute that passes
unique, incomparable, unchangeable
gift you your past, your present
And your future
All
As the mist of dawn
On which days go
But always live your time
gift you the assurance of traveling cloud
that forms and comes across the sky and
and evaporated on a sidewalk
you gift the fullness of the night
I give you a shout of the moon
I give you the dream of your hands
's Push your tongue
What chance of your steps
I give you the control over your actions
I give you this day that accumulates
soot on your shoes
life I give you my life
And she
confident I'll give you mine
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