"Good Afternoon Mr. Eddie, Welcome to Hilton KL."
Without sounding unabashedly pretentious, I must point out that i'm no stranger to Hilton Kuala Lumpur and this tale i'm about to bestow upon you, my lovely internet readers is one of implicit arrogance, but not in deliberation I must say. So, on with the story.
Hilton KL may be 'the' hotel in Klang Valley these days but I've had spats of biblical proportions with the Valets there, argued over the finer points of what a reservation entails at the pompously decorated and even more pompously named Iketeru and this one time even accidentally went into the ladies'. It was dark - I saw the sign wrongly.
So you can understand my 'reservations' when it comes to Kuala Lumpur's most glamourous hotel. I wasn't a big fan of their services, that's for sure.
At least until yesterday that is.
You see, it was lunch time so a friend (he's a writer here as well) and I had decided to give Hilton a shot since it was the only hotel that was within a stone's throw from our previous engagement.
As I pulled up to the hotel, I was surprised at how the valet went all out of his way to give me a parking spot that I, on many occasions quite literally put up a fight for. Probably it was the car. Probably he'd just gotten laid. Who knows.
As i stumbled out of the car, he asked for my name. Which I have to say is a first. No valet has ever bothered with my name, regardless of the car(s) I happened to be commandeering.
My friend and I scoffed at how the valets treat regular people in regular cars. We brought up the typical Malaysian argument of, "Oh had we strolled up to the lobby in a Proton, the valets wouldn't even bat an eye."
I suppose it's true. We should've taken the CLS 350 instead, they'd probably fight for a chance to 'move the poles' blocking the parking spots.
The reason I'm bringing this topic up in Men Are Here instead of my own blog is simply because, in my mind relationships are viewed in exactly the same manner. A good looking guy gets away with more than just murder, he'd also get away with your girlfriend. Or mother.
If the good looking guy also happened to be dressed in RM, he'd get away with Murder, your Mom and your Mercedes. The truth is ladies no matter how much you pride yourselves in falling in love for the 'right reasons', 8 times out of ten, you choose the ones who fit snugly into the category i mentioned above.
Superficiality rules. You know it, I know it. It's shameful to admit the truth, but it's better than living a lie.
Look, I do believe in 'true love'. True love may be fantastic, but how long does it actually last? A year? Two at the most?
See how true your love is after reality steps in during the third year and you're behind on your mortgage payments, your kids are wearing clothes which wouldn't be out of place in a circus show and your in laws are complaining that you don't give their daughters enough TLC. That my fair friends, is the reality behind the beautifully drawned up curtains.
"In the first year, the husband talks and the wife listens. In the second year, the wife talks and the husband listens. In the third year, they both talk and the NEIGHBOURS listen."
That may be a tad satirical but it is true.
But what if that man you married carries with him not just a bank balance the size of Arizona but a lovely getaway home in St Barts, a yacht for the weekend and a private jet to 'fly' your troubles away?
Exactly. That's what happens in real life. We all treat power & money in the same way. Adulation, reverance and widespread envy.
Unless you're that person. Or married to him.
The valet at the Hilton is an obvious example of how the 'illusion of power' moves (in this instance) parking poles. The world around us is filled with men who brandish their women with money in a stark representation of 'ownership', and women who brandish their men with 'love' so they could get more 'money', another stark representation of 'receivership'.
As I walked out of the cool airconditioned lobby, the doorman asked me,
"So Mr. Eddie, I hope you found your lunch satisfactory?"
I was too full to answer, so my friend replied in my stead.
"Extremely." he said, as he pat his 19 inch tummy. A gesture of pleasure.
I only had one thought in my mind as the valet removed the shackles blocking my exit. How did the 'doorman' know my name as well?
Exactly.
Hilton KL may be 'the' hotel in Klang Valley these days but I've had spats of biblical proportions with the Valets there, argued over the finer points of what a reservation entails at the pompously decorated and even more pompously named Iketeru and this one time even accidentally went into the ladies'. It was dark - I saw the sign wrongly.
So you can understand my 'reservations' when it comes to Kuala Lumpur's most glamourous hotel. I wasn't a big fan of their services, that's for sure.
At least until yesterday that is.
You see, it was lunch time so a friend (he's a writer here as well) and I had decided to give Hilton a shot since it was the only hotel that was within a stone's throw from our previous engagement.
As I pulled up to the hotel, I was surprised at how the valet went all out of his way to give me a parking spot that I, on many occasions quite literally put up a fight for. Probably it was the car. Probably he'd just gotten laid. Who knows.
As i stumbled out of the car, he asked for my name. Which I have to say is a first. No valet has ever bothered with my name, regardless of the car(s) I happened to be commandeering.
My friend and I scoffed at how the valets treat regular people in regular cars. We brought up the typical Malaysian argument of, "Oh had we strolled up to the lobby in a Proton, the valets wouldn't even bat an eye."
I suppose it's true. We should've taken the CLS 350 instead, they'd probably fight for a chance to 'move the poles' blocking the parking spots.
The reason I'm bringing this topic up in Men Are Here instead of my own blog is simply because, in my mind relationships are viewed in exactly the same manner. A good looking guy gets away with more than just murder, he'd also get away with your girlfriend. Or mother.
If the good looking guy also happened to be dressed in RM, he'd get away with Murder, your Mom and your Mercedes. The truth is ladies no matter how much you pride yourselves in falling in love for the 'right reasons', 8 times out of ten, you choose the ones who fit snugly into the category i mentioned above.
Superficiality rules. You know it, I know it. It's shameful to admit the truth, but it's better than living a lie.
Look, I do believe in 'true love'. True love may be fantastic, but how long does it actually last? A year? Two at the most?
See how true your love is after reality steps in during the third year and you're behind on your mortgage payments, your kids are wearing clothes which wouldn't be out of place in a circus show and your in laws are complaining that you don't give their daughters enough TLC. That my fair friends, is the reality behind the beautifully drawned up curtains.
"In the first year, the husband talks and the wife listens. In the second year, the wife talks and the husband listens. In the third year, they both talk and the NEIGHBOURS listen."
That may be a tad satirical but it is true.
But what if that man you married carries with him not just a bank balance the size of Arizona but a lovely getaway home in St Barts, a yacht for the weekend and a private jet to 'fly' your troubles away?
Exactly. That's what happens in real life. We all treat power & money in the same way. Adulation, reverance and widespread envy.
Unless you're that person. Or married to him.
The valet at the Hilton is an obvious example of how the 'illusion of power' moves (in this instance) parking poles. The world around us is filled with men who brandish their women with money in a stark representation of 'ownership', and women who brandish their men with 'love' so they could get more 'money', another stark representation of 'receivership'.
As I walked out of the cool airconditioned lobby, the doorman asked me,
"So Mr. Eddie, I hope you found your lunch satisfactory?"
I was too full to answer, so my friend replied in my stead.
"Extremely." he said, as he pat his 19 inch tummy. A gesture of pleasure.
I only had one thought in my mind as the valet removed the shackles blocking my exit. How did the 'doorman' know my name as well?
Exactly.