This morning was the pits! That big cheerleading competition that came here three or four months ago returned last night for the finals, or semi-finals, or whatever, and bought up most of the rooms in our hotel. This morning, the tarted-up tots absolutely ravaged the breakfast room, and spilt a literal gallon of waffle mix all over the counter and food trays, making me have to clean up the mess and then recook everything.
While I'm trying to catch up with that, a woman runs into the breakfast room to grab me and tells me that her husband can't move, is struggling to breath, and isn't responding to her! I abandoned breakfast to go with the wife, who was in an understandable state of low panic, and phone an ambulance. I'm in the room with her trying to help out any way I can, and there's a crowd of a dozen rubbernecking ten-year-old cheerleaders out in the hall trying to get a good look in at the sick guy through the open door.
During this, I'm getting calls on the hotel wireless from guests at the front desk who are complaining about the sorry state of the breakfast room, and the cheer squad's head coach starts going on about her bill being wrong, and demanding that I come help her "right now."
I'm like, "Ma'am, I'll help you as soon as I can, but I've got a very sick guest here! I will have the manager contact you about your bill when she gets in if I can't get to you before you leave!"
And she gripes, and the breakfasters moan, and the cheerleaders whisper excitedly, and the wife keeps talking on the line with the ambulance dispatcher, and the old dude just breathes.
What a morning!