Rant: Wintergreen Hotel Wisconson Dells

[sparkles]

So, my boss is a Packers fan and goes to at least 6 games a year. A coworker and myself are Bears fans and have never been to a game. We're awesome, so he offered to take us and our wives. We left Des Moines Friday morning for the Dells.

Plan was to stay at a hotel with a waterpark that our boss had reservations at. Well, after finding out that prices jumped to $350 a room per night, he decided to stay at a different hotel, The Wintergreen Hotel and Conference center. We weren't sure if we were going to stay just Friday night and head to Green Bay today (Saturday), or just stay for 2 nights and leave Sunday morning. Well, we made that decision last night and my boss told the front desk first thing this morning that we would be staying here an extra night. They said all was fine. They were wrong.

When we first checked in on Friday, they needed a credit card to "hold". I specifically asked if it was just for incidentals and if it would be charged and then refunded or if it was just being held. I was told that it would not be charged FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN INCIDENTALS. Once again, they were wrong. I knew to ask this specifically because most hotels put a hold on Debit cards for $125 and then will refund it 10 days later. If that was the case I would use my actual credit card, but they assured me, that wasn't the case with them. Like I said, they were wrong.

Fast forward to tonight when I try to get into my room. Key doesn't work. Go to the front desk. They say there was an issue with the credit card used to pay for the rooms. That being my boss's card. Evidently, the other place he had reservations at charged his card anyway even though he canceled. So that in turn caused an issue with his card. See where this is going?

I call my boss and get him on the way to the front desk. I tell the front desk that he's on the way and asked if we could be let into our rooms. She says "absolutely not". So my wife goes off and says "So you're gonna keep our shit hostage?" The bitch ignored us and went into the back room. Well, I gotta drop a loaf, so I take off for the head. My wife sends me a text saying she's in the room, they charged MY card earlier in the day, but then refunded it and that my boss came and paid cash.

So I'm pretty heated by this point. Go back down to the front desk and ask them why the fuck did they decide to take it upon themself to charge my card when I was specifically told they wouldn't put anything on it other than incidentals AND why the fuck if they did, why can't I go into my room AND I want a receipt for the charge and for the credit back onto my card. I instead was basically told that she wasn't going to argue and that she was calling the cops. I said "you know what, don't bother. Thanks, you've been more than helpfull".

Go to my room, strip down into my boxers. Chillax for a min. Knock on the door. Wisconson's finest. They basically said she was wrong, but that she alleged that I was threatening her somehow. I said it was a bunch of BS and denied that I did anything of the sort. They said ok and took off. Were actually pretty cool about it till I told them I was rooting for the Bears tomorrow.

Anywho, fuggin c#@t. Some women just need some sense slapped into them. I'm definitely gonna waste as much free time as possible letting people know about this incident. BBB, Angie's list, etc.

[85XR7Project]

Take a dump and don't flush it before you leave. Should make you feel a bit better and if that doesn't work tell her off on your way out. Not much she can do then.

[Deimos]

I would be asking for the manager, regional manager, and district managers name. Then let them know I will be calling them.

[sparkles]

Done and done already. I just can't believe the bitch called the cops on me just because I pretty much explained in every way possible how she fucked up and all I wanted was a receipt and an apology. Neither of which did I get.

[DustinsDuster]

sorry for the bad quality; point is made though:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jz9a5AZDCQQ&feature=related

[Inferno333]

That was horrible Dustin...

[Deimos]

Dude when I saw that movie for the first time I laughed so hard I could breathe for like 2 minutes.

[DustinsDuster]

Dude when I saw that movie for the first time I laughed so hard I could breathe for like 2 minutes.

when i first read the story when Melisa posted it years ago, i couldnt breath. it literally took years before i could could read the the whole thing without stopping to laugh.

[DustinsDuster]

EDIT: here you guys go if you've never read it:


I hadn’t realized how supremely shit-housed I was until we stumbled into our room at the Embassy Suites. You ever been so drunk you forgot that you have to shit until the last minute? Well I was at that stage. I nearly had my pants completely off when SlingBlade snaked past me and got into the toilet first. Fine, I go get out of my bar clothes and change into a t-shirt and pink Gap boxers to sleep in. I wait patiently for about three minutes, then I start pounding on the door, screaming at him that I am going to shit on his bed if he doesn’t get out of there.

A short time later he opens the door laughing his ass off, and says, “That was perhaps the most prodigious shit ever. I just put that toilet into therapy.”

I take a gander into the bathroom. It looks like Revelations. The toilet is overflowing, brown shit water is spilling out all over the bathroom floor, and the tank is making demonic gurgling noises.

THE MOTHERFUCKER CLOGGED UP A HOTEL TOILET!

Hotel toilets are industrial size; they are designed to be able to accommodate repeated elephant-sized shits, and their ram-jet engine flushes generate enough force to suck down a human infant, yet skinny ass 170-pound SlingBlade completely killed ours.

I nearly panic. I let loose a flurry of unintelligible curse words at SlingBlade, punctuated by a “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!,” and knock over the lamp in my dash out of the room. The turtle is sticking his head out, and he is coming whether I am on a toilet or not.

I figure that there must be a bathroom somewhere in the lobby, so I shoot down the hall and hop in the elevator. Once in the lobby I can’t seem to spot a bathroom anywhere. So, I head around the corner to the front desk, which doesn’t face the lobby. It’s about 4am, and no one is at the desk. I furiously hit the bell for at least a minute–CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG –until some poor lady comes out with sleep lines all over her face and tells me that the bathroom in the corner of the lobby.

It is hard to describe, so let me give you an aerial picture of what the lobby looks like:



I turn the corner from the front desk into the lobby and realize I don’t know which side of the triangular lobby she is talking about. I don’t have time to go back and ask her, and I see a white door at the end of the left-hand side, so I quickly waddle towards it. Why am I waddling? Because I have to physically hold my butt cheeks together to prevent myself from crapping all over my pink Gap boxers. I am literally pressing my ass cheeks together with my hands. One of the prouder moments of my life.

I nearly bust the door off it’s hinges as I plow through it. I hear a loud, “AYYYY!!,” that almost literally scares the shit out of me. I jump back to see that this is a janitor’s closet, complete with a small Mexican lady janitor. I momentarily contemplate taking a dump in the janitors bucket, but decide against that, mainly because of the presence of said female janitor.

I try to be as diplomatic as possible, considering that I am about to crap my pants:

Tucker “WHERE IS THE BATHROOM?”
Janitor “No, no se habla Ingles.”
Tucker “WHAT?!? Huh, uh…DONDE ESTA FUCKING BANO?”
Janitor “AYA, AYA!”

She points across the lobby. About 60 yards from where I am standing, at the complete other end of the lobby, there is a set of doors that have a large “Restroom” sign over them. Right where the front desk lady said it would be, except on the opposite side of the lobby.

I have about half a second to make a crucial decision: I can either sprint and hope I make it there before I shit in my boxers, or I can stick my thumb up into my ass and shuffle the 60 yards to lavatory freedom. The decision is simple: I break into a full-on dead-ass sprint.

I am a decent athlete, I played football, baseball and basketball in high school, and I stay in good shape. I have run from cops before, I have run from guard dogs, from a legitimate drive-by shooting once while in Kentucky, but I don’t think I have ever run that fast in my life. Nothing motivates like the prospect of being covered in human excrement.

Unfortunately, I was not fast enough. It went something like this:

-20 yards into the run I feel my boxers start to sag.
-30 yards into the run, about halfway, I feel my ass crack and legs get noticeably wet.
-40 yards into the run, my boxers have slid down to mid thigh. I am struggling to keep it together.
-50 yards into the run, I can feel wetness all over me and little specs of something hitting the back of my head and ears.

By the time I get to the bathroom door, the end of the 60 yards, I have completely lost it.

I am shitting myself. Full on crapping in my pink Gap boxers.

I step out of my boxers as I crash through the door. Shit is puddled in the seat. I blindly hurl them away from me, and nearly break the door to the first stall. I plop down on the seat and immediately slide off, because my ass is covered in slimy, runny feces. All the while, my butt hole is spouting forth waste. I finally get situated on the toilet and lose perhaps 20 pounds in the next 2 minutes.

During a short respite in my nearly superhuman flow of crap, I notice that the toilet is almost completely full of shit, so I flush. Predictably, the toilet overflows. Great. I move to the next stall, and continue my little adventure, except this time I courtesy flush every few seconds.

By the time I finish, I am physically exhausted, completely dehydrated, and my eyes are tearing up from shitting so hard. I laugh at the inadequacy of toilet paper to clean my body. I take my shirt off and see that the back of it is completely covered in little specks of shit that my heels kicked up from the diarrhea that ran down my legs as I ran. I throw the shirt in the trash, and then see the mirror. My pink Gap boxers are crumpled in a ball on the sink, with a thick black streak leading from the top of the mirror down to them. This is their final resting place.

Completely naked and covered in my own poop, I chuckle, because at this point if I don’t laugh I have to cry. As I open the bathroom door to the lobby, I think to myself, “Who else on earth could be having a worse night than me?”

My question is immediately answered.

I see a trail of shit, starting very wide at my feet, getting progressively smaller until it apexes at the chunky white shoes of none other than the small Mexican lady janitor.

Her eyes met mine. We may have been separated by numerous religious, language and socioeconomic barriers, but the “What the fuck just happened?” expression on her face crossed all boundaries.

Now really–picture this scene: I am butt-ass naked, crap plastered all over my ass, legs, back and head, standing about 20 yards away from a Mexican maid, with a trail of black liquid shit leading from her directly to me. What would you do? I wasn’t sure. I don’t think there is any defined etiquette for this situation.

I shrug my shoulders, say, “Uhh, sorry. I mean, uh–lo siento. Good night. Buenos noche–or whatever,” and calmly walk to the elevator.

From the glass window in the elevator, I can see her sobbing. The rest of the lobby tells me why: Not only had my legs kicked shit up on the back of my ears and head, they had sprayed little specs of poop all over EVERYTHING. The couches, the walls, everywhere.

Come to think of it, she wasn’t sobbing. I believe “hysterical crying” would be a better descriptive term. Oh well, someone has to clean up my messes, and it sure as shit isn’t going to be me.

[85XR7Project]

Laughed so hard I was in tears. Thank you for that. Seriously.

[sLoWnStEaDy]

LOL at her calling the police.

[DustinsDuster]

Laughed so hard I was in tears. Thank you for that. Seriously.


http://www.tuckermax.com

he's kindof a hero of mine. i dont really feel the need to treat women as badly as he does, but the going out and adventures always sounds fun.