THE LAST TANGO IN PARIS

In the last several years I have had a lot of people tell me I should write a book because let’s face it having spent my entire life working in this business I have seen some great and horrific things and have met a lot of interesting characters. I decided to start writing a blog to help me recall some of the stories that are worthy of telling. The first thing I did before I actually started writing wasto make a list of topics I thought people would be interested in hearing about or that I thought were hilarious. Never in all that time did I ever think I would feel compelled to write about something or somebody that doesn't even have a Cleves connection.

Let’s get one thing straight, I think Paris Hilton is a total skank / ditch pig and a spoiled little bitch. I know I am not alone in my thoughts on this. I still cannot understand why this person is famous. She can’t act (unless she is in a sex tape), she can’t sing (without auto tune) and she is as dumb as a bag of hammers. I am certain if her head were held under water bubbles would rise to the surface. Please don’t misunderstand me, I am absolutely not comparing the Hiltons to the Cornells at all. We owned 1 hotel in the smallest town in the world and they own several in the most glamorous places around the globe. It has however got me thinking as to why she is such a disaster and for me it boils down to her childhood and parents. Obviously I can’t say that without discussing my own childhood or parents, both of which were amazing.

The differences are blatantly obvious. She grew up in Beverly Hills being waited on hand and foot every moment of her life. I grew up in Minett and was waited on at the family dinner table in the Dining Room in the summer to which I have already told you wasn’t exactly enjoyable for me. Getting dressed up every night just about killed me. She likely spent her childhood being raised by nannies, rarely saw her parents and spent her days lying by the family pool having some poor servant wait on her hand and foot or shopping on Rodeo Drive. After the age of 9 I spent my days running around the resort spending every minute with PS skateboarding, swimming in the lake, riding my bike and after the age of 11, working. At 11 I rented boats half a day, 6 days a week. It wasn’t exactly difficult and I spent most of my time swimming in the lake, but it was a job. After that I did everything from nursery, front desk, reservations and bar. Along the way I have done my share of housekeeping and dishwashing. Let’s not forget the black out of 2003 when I was in the kitchen for 6 straight meals hand washing cutlery for 500 people. The second the power came back on I walked into Dad’s office and had a serious discussion about generators and how badly we needed one to run the kitchen. I doubt Paris had a job until she made that sex tape.

A lot of the blame for what an ass she is has to be put on her parents. I can’t imagine she had a curfew as a teenager and until I was about 17 I distinctly remember looking at my watch every 30 seconds willing the second hand to slow down as 11:00 pm approached. I had the exact time it took me to run from the club up to the house, down to the second. My dad would be sitting in the front living room window waiting for me, having a smoke (Cameo menthol - yuk) looking at his own watch as I flew in the door every night at 10:59:59. I knew if I was late I would be grounded which would mean I wouldn’t be allowed to go to the club at all for a period of time. Let’s face it Cleves isn’t exactly a place where you want your kid wandering in and out of the staff house in their early teens at night which makes me think that Paris spent her teenage years living any way she pleased with absolutely no rules or even the pressure to work. I also highly doubt that unlike me, she got excited when she and her friends ran up to the phone booth to score loose change, crawled under the pop machine on the dock where we made a mini fortune, or got to roam around the woods beside the golf course looking for golf balls, so excited to yell ‘FOUND ONE’ every time one appeared!!!

Does Paris live a glamorous life? Absolutely. Would I trade places with her? ABSOLUTELY NOT!! I had just as much fun at Cleves growing up. Believe me I cranked it up A LOT and there are lots of stories that will always remain in the vault but I think my parents did a brilliant job of finding a way to raise 3 kids in an environment like that who never got into any MAJOR trouble. Paris used the ‘the cocaine found in my purse wasn’t mine’ defense not long ago...really? I had to fire a kid this spring for drinking underage in the Club and she tried to use the ‘I didn’t actually buy myself the drink I was enjoying, somebody gave it to me’ defense. What I should have said to her was ‘and I am sure they water boarded you with it and that’s how you ended up having to drink it!’

My advice to Paris is simple; get a grip, get a real job, and put your big girl pants on - scratch that - put some underwear on. Didn’t your mother give you the time honored advice ‘don’t leave the house without clean underwear on or without $20.00 in your pocket?’ Your way is obviously not working and you are making the rest of the ‘Hotel Brats’ look bad!!

THE 10 WEEK BREAKDOWN

Eating in the Dining Room with the family has changed a lot over the last 30 years. When I was a kid we ate in there every single night as a family. That was back in the day when men were required to wear jackets so that meant we all had to dress up seven days a week. For a kid who windsurfed, swam and skateboarded around the resort all day long that was a pretty bitter pill to swallow! These days we might eat dinner in the dining room twice a week, but in the last couple of years even that has been a stretch. Long gone are the days where the men are required to wear jackets. The last time we had dinner in there on Labour Day weekend a father and son came in to eat dinner wearing baseball hats and they wore them through the entire meal.

One thing that hasn’t changed in the last 15 summers is the ritual of my Mom and I eating breakfast in the dining room about 4 days a week. We don’t eat in there on my day off, on Sundays (because she is at church getting a good word in for all of us) or on her ‘hair day’ - we cannot mess with ‘hair day’, after all her hair could be considered a ‘National Treasure’ it is that good!! Mom actually eats breakfast with Dad before she comes down and just has a coffee with me and I go into the kitchen and grab something quick. We aren’t there for more than 20 minutes but it gives both of us a chance to see some of the long time guests. Not a meal goes by when a guest doesn’t stop by the table to say hi on their way in or out and it is usually one of the great parts about eating in there. There are however some guests who come over and just stand there for ages. A couple of years ago we actually ate our entire dinner, salad, entree and dessert while the same couple stood beside Dad and talked. I couldn’t even look at Mom across the table because every time I did she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at me - hilarious.

After eating breakfast with Mom four days a week for a few summers I started to notice a distinct pattern to her behaviour and enjoyment of our brief time together. When she and I go in for breakfast we always sit in the same seats. She sits in the chair closest to the kitchen facing the Dining Room door and I sit in the chair across from her facing the dining room. As I have mentioned before we are always ready for the spring conference season to end and for family season to begin, but after you read this you will understand why I have also said that we are also always ready for family season to end.

On the first Monday of family season we sit down at the table and immediately some cute 4 year old girl will come running in to get to her table and Mom will say something like ‘Ohhhhhh look at this little girl with the little pigtails coming in here, she is so pretty and look at her run by with those adorable running shoes on....’. At about week 5 some equally adorable little boy will come flying through the lobby and Mom will say something like, ‘This little boy about to run in here is really cute but jeeeeeezz I wish the managers would stop him from running through here...sigh......’ Week nine hits and the first kid that runs down the aisle gets ‘the eyebrow’ (those of you who have seen it and know what I am talking about are shaking right now - it still scares the crap out of me at 41!!!’ and she puts her fists up in front of her face and shakes them ever so slightly and she whispers ‘one of these days I am going to stick my foot out as they run by’.

The Monday of week 10 a few years ago Mom came into my office to get me and on my way by Sharon’s desk I said ‘this is it, this is the morning, Mom is going to FREAK OUT at the first kid that flies by our table, it is going to be AMAZING’. Mom and I headed over to the dining room and took our usual seats. I hear it before I see it.... coming through the lobby is some cute little kid super excited about his first full day at Clevelands House, looking forward to starting camp for the day and just as he hits warp speed beside our table Mom screams at the top of her lungs......‘SSTTTTTOOOOOPPP RUUUNNNNIIINNNNGGG!!!!! Of course the kid bursts into tears immediately and the parents rush up to little Johnny to find out what happened. Mom calmly explains that she told him to stop running because little Johnny is going to be trampled by a server carrying 12 entrees and hot coffee and that probably wouldn’t be a good thing. Now really, what sane person would look at a woman with hair that white and that fabulous and yell back!!!