Some Things are Just Funny
The enormous convention center in Dallas is so large it doesn’t have room for a hotel, so the 7,000 attendees to the TLA have to scramble to find rooms elsewhere. My roommate Donna and I landed in Hotel Lorenzo. And yes, it was funny. Perhaps some of the guests didn’t think it funny, as I heard people in the elevator saying, “I just love this music, don’t you?” (No.) I saw folks gaping in the lobby, taking it all in oohing and aahing: “Don’t you just love this place?” (Love probably isn’t the word I would choose.) When I met Donna at the Convention Center, she asked, “How’s our room.” I burst out laughing. “Wait till you see it,” I answered. “What? Bad?” “No. Just…funny. It’s like an Andy Warhol Museum.”
Above the porte-cochere is white scaffolding, erector-set style. Balanced on the rails are blue Gumby-people wearing blue plastic body stockings. They are anatomically correct, male and female Gumbys. You can tell that because… well, as I said. Try not to stare. Donna said, “Hmm, Blue Davids. It’s art.” The scaffolding is over the pool, so of course one of the Gumby’s is taking a swan dive in his birthday suit. Hanging around the edges are super-sized lamp shades of every style and shape. Must be something new in patio furnishings.
Inside the lobby, a glimpse into the restaurant reveals chairs in hot pink alligator vinyl or brown and white cowhide, with the hair on. Both are very uncomfortable, insuring guests don’t tie up the table too long; it’s a small dining room. There are two huge white pillars in the middle of the room covered with shiny black, ornate picture frames around black and white photos of people in sunglasses. It made me smile. Donna studied it and said, “You are right. There he is.” “Who?” “Andy Warhol. That’s him in the pictures.” Really? I just said that, I really didn’t know that. Let’s go to our room.
A ramp through a little alley behind the concierge takes us to the elevator. One side of the alley wall is covered with large, mirrored, saucer-sleds. The opposite wall has a series of eyes that reflect into the mirrors. When you pass one winks at you! Really. How’s that work? Big green eyes, watching and winking. The loud party music that fills the lobby and dining room follows us into the elevator making conversation difficult. On our floor the hall carpeting, reminiscent of a paint tarp, has blue streaks that appear to be glowing. But the carpet inside our room, sort of speaks to us. It’s printed with black lettering as from an old typewriter, impossible to read and making one think someone has spilled their popcorn. A sign stuck to the TV informs us that the carpet has been custom made by Shaw Industries and it is Hamlet’s soliloquy, To be or not to be. I fall on the bed laughing because the bathroom door has a submarine window. I look up at the ceiling. The ceiling seems to be a concrete floor. And stuck to it is a big black picture frame. In the frame is a paint brush stuck to the ceiling. I was tempted to take it down and paint the enormous chair in the corner. It didn’t really match the Greek god on Donna’s pillow. Maybe a little paint…
Enough strange for you? We laughed for four days. Some things are just plain funny.