Since last week’s effort turned out to be quite a hoot (well, at least for me), with some very creative and entertaining submissions, I thought we’d take another run at it this week. Your mission, should you accept: Write a micro-story in the comments capturing what you think is happening in this photo.
Bit of background:
Once upon a time (okay, it was this past Saturday), the visiting niece convinced the rest of the entourage that she simply had to go to “The Sweet Tooth Hotel” in downtown Dallas. Naturally, my eyebrows raised on why a minor (she’s 17) would feel compelled to visit a hotel when she had a perfectly good bed on one of the spare couches in our house. Was this a protest statement about our hospitality? Or was something wickedly sordid this way coming?
Turns out, said “hotel” is one of those places with “exhibits” where you can immerse yourself in various staged environments while your excited friends take photos of you doing so. (Apparently, this type of establishment is very trendy in certain circles. I’m assuming those circles are much younger than me.) In any case, we were soon traipsing about in the “Victory Park” section of urban Dallas, with the 101-degree summer sun making the trek considerably moist, looking for a building where social-media enthusiasts can build up inventory for their Instagram feeds.
We discovered that the “Sweet Tooth” had two entrances. One led directly to the bar, an access point designed for those folks who had no intention of doing the photo-op thing and would rather swill alcohol until the madness was over. Partner and Brother-in-Law immediately vanished through this portal, not even bothering to look back. Niece, Sister and I clattered through the other door, where it soon became obvious that I was the oldest person on the planet who had ever done so.
Word quickly spread through the gaggle of youthful self-promoters that one of the “exhibits” this time, which change every month or so to keep the revenue stream healthy, apparently involved a dinosaur theme. Several of the dim young things whipped out their cellphones and began edging toward me, jostling to see who would get to mount me first so they could use it as a clever profile photo.
The “hostess” at the front desk, trained in crowd control, as anyone must be in this age of emboldened teenagers, quickly explained that the “tour” hadn’t started yet. Be nice and leave the old man alone. But you should also be sweet and help him should he fall and be unable to get up. Lawsuits are not trending right now and we don’t need any of that mess up in here. The whippersnappers were mildly disappointed, but they quickly found salvation by taking selfies in front of a giant neon ice cream cone on one wall of the lobby.
A few minutes later, our “tour guide” arrived, explained a few rules (don’t go into the VIP section unless you bought the upgraded tickets and don’t kill anybody), and then threw open the doors, at which point the guide became pointless, as everyone rushed past her in a frenzy of self-involvement. Sister and I muttered a small prayer of survival, expressed our love for each other in case we didn’t make it out alive, and then we followed Niece into the inner sanctums.
And you know what? It was fun. I had a really good time. (I was just as stunned as you probably are now, reading this paragraph.) I might even do it again in the future. But I’m definitely going through the bar door first, and then doing the exhibits. There was a tremendous amount of unregulated youthful exuberance in that hotel.
But enough about me.
Back to you.
Please share your whimsical interpretation of the above photo, in whatever manner you find appropriate. (And feel free to exploit the “dinosaur” angle; I certainly did enough of that on my own.) Perhaps some poetry might even be in order. That would be festive. Just make sure it rhymes, as most of the patrons at “The Sweet Tooth Hotel” won’t recognize poetry unless it has a Dr. Seussian flair.
Go forth and pontificate!
Photo credit: The opening snap was taken by the lovely Dawn Kallenberger, sister extraordinaire and oft-times partner in crime. Speaking of, here’s a shot I took of Dawn in one of the “exhibits”. Isn’t it annoying that she looks twenty years younger than me, even though she’s only three? Nobody thought SHE was part of the dinosaur diorama. And so it goes…