So the mini-bar in my Las Vegas hotel room is demonic. When I checked in the front desk lady told me that “if you lift something in the refrigerator or the rack your account will be charged automatically.”
Actually, if I lift something for more than 45 seconds my account will get charged. That is sinister.
Like all mini-bars, this one is home to the 6.78 ounce bottle of four-dollar Coke which absolutely-positively cannot be replaced with an off-site, less expensive alternative. It is also home to a $12 box of cashews — which one would need to be … nuts [rimshot] to lift out of the rack.
There is a $15 disposable camera, and a “martini set” for $8 (I imagine you get one olive and a spear), but the winner is …
The $25 “Intimacy Kit.”
I fear the “Intimacy Kit.” It is a white box with three lipstick kisses on it. What lies within? There is no information on the box and I sure as hell am not going to pick it up to trigger the magic sensor that will put a blinking $25 charge on my room bill that I would have to explain to accounting. The $14 first aid kit one can justify on grounds of an emergency: “I cut my jugular shaving and needed to stop myself from desanguinating.”
But a $25 Intimacy Kit? What excuse do you dream up for that one? “I was lonely. I needed a hug…..”
This blogger also got an Intimacy Kit, but it in a clear box with a table of contents. Mine is more mysterious.