Bitcoinium on Nostr: On Hyatt Regency #It'sOn I had a very bad day. The worst part is, the day is not ...

On Hyatt Regency #It'sOn

I had a very bad day. The worst part is, the day is not over. It is noon on May 31st, 2024 in McLean, Virginia. I started out the day as a normal day. I went to Starbucks and ordered a cappuccino as per usual. I was on my phone, an iPhone, that is of the latest model variety, but somehow it "fights" me as I try to get things done such as type, call and sometimes load apps. It is hard to pin down what's wrong with Apple these days. Maybe Steve Jobs died and Apple went to hell in a hand basket. I am going to change phones soon but I have to mind my spending. Anyways, that's not why I am having a very bad day. I finished my Starbucks and then moved on to Barrel & Bushel for my second cup. So far, so normal. I was listening to one of my favorite streams out of Alberta. To be fair, I was shouting. A dam broke and I started swearing about the state of my life. You see, for a very long time, maybe even my whole life, I have been fighting an invisible specter. It presents as sounds in the atmosphere and does battles with my mind. It creates coincidences out of nothing, and collapses space, time as if newtonian physics doesn't hold. I know what you are thinking. You must be insane. Right? Well, the terrifying reality is I am perfectly sane such that I am forced to experience two worlds in one. The cognitive dissonance is exhausting, and is pure, unadulterated torture. In this physical world, my sisters are fighting me tooth and nail, to rob me out of the fruits of my labor including my own child. They insult, shout, abuse and steal. They will stop at nothing. It is a fight to the death. I beg for help. I get responses and promises of salvation. They come and go as if nothing ever happened. People laugh as if they find it amusing. I must keep going. What is the alternative? This time, like all times, I think, I have a captive audience. The solution is at hand. But I was wrong. Instead, an "official"
of the hotel, Hyatt Regency, comes over and asks me to leave. Which is strange because I have already calmed down having realized, once again, there is no reprieve. The torture is the endless hope which is always dashed. If you want to annihilate someone, that's the way to do it. I ask him why he is asking me to leave since I am no longer shouting. He says, they have been watching me over camera for a while now (Hyatt guests beware) and determined that I am someone who should be removed because I was given a chance which apparently I squandered. Funny that. This is the first time I hear of it. How about we count this as a warning and if it happens again, then shame on me, Bushie. But he tells me that is not an option. He pleads with me to leave without having to escalate the matter. There is a flicker of violence in the air. I refuse to back down. He says he "respects me" so I should just leave. So this is the "good cop" routine, is it? I remember Khala. She would ask for a supervisor and badge numbers and all. So I do that. He seems worried. I approach the front desk. He motions for me not to go there and points me towards the door. I smirk. Does he really think he can treat me like that? I ignore him and wait for the receptions, Kayla and Jordan Smith to finish dealing with their customers. At some point I even entertain the idea of paying for a room outright in the hotel just to make the point. He had tried using the fact that I am not a guest of the hotel as a reason to oust me from the premises. Guests, you should treat that as an opportunity to test their resolve, that is if you dare. He starts walking fast and scurries into a room and disappears. I'm surprised. Kayla puts down the phone and wants to deal with me at the same time as Jordan. Jordan asks me what the problem is. He says something about hoping it is not bad. I jokingly say, it is not bad. It is very bad. Now he is really worried. I go for the jugular. I know British so when I say very bad, I mean very bad. They ask me what the problem is. I refuse. I ask them to get the guy. His name is F-something, to come so that I can face my accuser, so to speak. I would want to be fair. Since he wasn't fair to me. Right? Treat others how you want to be treated. The golden rule. I wouldn't want to say something he disagrees with when I tell my side of the story. They are having none of it. I am not budging. In the end, my accuser, F-something, does come back with his supervisor. A man whom later I would learn his name is John. He does listen as I recount my side of the story. F-something runs away. I am upset. I would like for him to stay and listen to what I tell his supervisor. Maybe I am unfair. Maybe I will take advantage of his not being there to fib the story in my favor. I call F-something a coward. Not once but twice. John is unimpressed. I tell him what happened. I login into my credit card account to show him the amount of money I spent in their establishment. He is unimpressed. He starts to cut to the chase. I tell him to let me finish. He does, to be fair. I say I didn't get a fair warning. He begs to differ. He says he is aware of one other incident whereby I was warned. I tell him that is a lie. It is a he-said, she-said situation, I say. I am somewhat amused and perhaps it showed on my face. I can be transparent sometimes unbeknownst to me. John is still unimpressed. I tell him, looking him dead in the eye, one of us is a liar. Either I am a liar when I say this is the first time I was warned, or you were told a lie by whomever said I was warned previously. We can't both be right, right? He doesn't know what to say. Finally a break in the facade. I let him off the hook. I say to him, John, would you like me to leave the premises now and never again come to your establishment? He says he would like me to leave now, yes. Huh? I try again. Would you like me to leave and never again come to your establishment. He is noncommittal with regards to me coming again. Interesting. I handed me a FULL out on a silver platter and he is not biting. Why? I say, this has been a lovely argument. He might think I was being flippant, but I actually meant it. I walk out, head high, mouth curved into a satisfied smile.

Here is the funny part. The simulation. Call it the cherry on top, the bow on the present, the button on the shirt. Hyatt means life in Arabic. Regency comes from the French word Reine which is queen, so as to mean royal. Royal life. Hyatt Regency of Tysons Corner mall in Mclean, Virginia, a stone throw away from the HQ of Microstrategy, saylor (npub15dq…lm5m) is neither life nor royal. Finito.

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