the grey teletubbie

You know in those old detective movies they talk in that cool "jazzy" way, almos(h)t with a purpos(h)ful lis(h)p, s(h)ee? Well start thinking in that way, and this tale will be 13.4% better...

The year was not important, almost as unimportant as the godforsaken name of the godforsaken place in the godforsaken town where this all occured. Like any humourous memory which you carry to your grave, clutched to your bosom in order to entertain you eternally once your soul passes the threshold betwixt life and death, this one always seems funnier (in a strange way) each time it is retrospectively analysed.

So there i was, minding my own business, tending to the guests of the quirky accommodation facility at which i worked. The weather outside was such that made every fiber of my being yearn to be out there, frolicking the streets and diffusing into the hustle bustle. But alas, my contract for some reason omitted the part where i am allowed to be aloof and run off sporadically out the door with no explanation whatsoever, leaving a queueueueue of alarmed guests wondering whether the crazed look in my eye was that slow insanity that comes with boredom, or the rapid and unsettling insanity that explodes within and causes a relatively harmless girl to commit hate crimes against segments she did not even know that she hated. But i digress (as i more often than not, do)...

I was chatting amiably with my co-worker when the strangest sight appeared before my very eyes. A lady, clad in black tracksuit pants, and a grey hooded jumper. Do not jump to conclusions and write me off as a tracksuit hater - hear me out. Now, the strange thing about her was that she had her grey hood pulled up over her head, and the drawstrings pulled tight into a bow, leaving only a small circle of her facial features exposed- mouth, nose, large glazed eyes, part of a chin, and also part of a forehead. Perhaps if it were subzero temperature outside and she was some sort of express post delivery woman (which would explain the wheelie grocery trolley in tow) delivering some sort of body heat generator so we didn't all freeze to death, then i would bat no eyelid at her bold fashion statement reminiscent of kenny from south park.

Anyhow it surned out she was a guest at the hotel, our conversation went a little like this:
*She walks up to the desk*
ME: Hi!
HER: Do you have an alarm clock?
ME: No sorry, we did have one to lend out, but it went missing.
*A long awkward silence in which she doesnt blink*
HER: I'll give you my passport
ME: Uhm, yeah... but we haven't actually got one to give OUT. Do you have a phone or something you could use?
HER: No. Checkout is tomorrow, I can't guarantee i will wake up...
ME: Oh, if you sleep in a little we won't bother you - we will understand
HER: But i might not wake up at all...
ME: (thinking: wtf) I'm sorry, but i can't help you. Perhaps if you buy a cheap one?
HER: No... (very calm and eloquent, her voice trails off as if she's looking to the horizon)

This broad stayed for a few weeks longer, and awkward encounters were had by all staff members. The fact that she wore the same outfit every single day (even reportedly sleeping in it) whilst remaining fastidiously clean and fragrant (in a good way) was a credit to her. She reminded me of a teletubbie because she couldnt get out of the clothes, and you could only see a small circle of her face. And so it was that the nickname stuck "the grey teletubbie".

Throughout the weeks we unravelled more of her enigmatic existence, by the hear-say of other guests (terrible i know) and even one guy who had coincedentally stayed with her before in another country. It turns out that in her wheelie trolley which is permanently attached to her side, she collects plastic bags which she finds around the streets... fascinating. It also turns out she gently shakes the other people in the dorm room in the middle of the night and whispers "shhh.... you're breathing heavily..." and then recedes into the darkness like a nightmare fading as you re-join the waking world.

I came to believe that she lacked hair under that hood, but one day i saw a strand poking out which put my crazy fantasies to bed. Anyhow, she had common OCD indicators, and also seemed to be heavily medicated at all times, having a conversation with her was like conversing with someone on the other side of the world, experiencing the lag between question and response. It also became apparent that she slept in large blocks of time - perhaps about 36 hours as one room-mate recorded. That must be teletubbie hibernation.. a few days at a time!

This lady also complained of high pitched buzzing in many of the rooms she stayed in.. all undetected by everybody else. She professed that it wouldn't be wise of us to put someone so highly strung into a room with a high-pitched whine. Another time she claimed "someone" had deposited excrements on her bed - under the blankets, and asked if we could flip the matress as it was rather disturbing for her... personally if 'someone' did that in my bed, i would demand a new room... not just a flip of the matress - she didnt even mention that it should be cleaned!! No smoke without fire, teletubbie... no smoke without fire. i know it was you...

I shall always remember the strange ways of the grey teletubbie, i shall file it away in the "work memories" section, and revisit it with a chuckle, and start to wonder where oh where she might have gone off to next? Perhaps she is off to clean the streets of another city, in another country... who knows? I bid her well on her quest to collect stray plastic bags and hibernate on ever continent... god speed you grey beacon of light. i will miss your antics...