White Cloud

2- Aren't All Clouds White?

The White Cloud Hotel.

Seems like kind of an odd name for a hotel because aren't all clouds white? I mean, sure they can be gray sometimes but that's kind of a form of white. It just seems like such an ordinary thing, like naming something the Red Apple Buffet or something like that. Clouds are just white.

Then again, there are always four seasons and that hotel has been incredibly successful as well. I guess people who name hotels just like to name them with obvious descriptions of nature.

The hotel itself is beautiful though, so I guess when it comes down to it, it doesn't really matter what the name is anyway. It's on the beach, of course, and the building is enormous. There are two wings of the building that make a right angle, the West Wing and the East Wing. All of the rooms in each wing are identical except for the bottom floor where there are multiple amenity rooms that are different. For example, the gym is in the East Wing while the spa is in the West.

The lobby is a grand, large lobby with dark wood counters, marble floors, black iron railings, crystal chandeliers, luxurious plant life, and an employee behind the desk that welcomes me and the rest of my family with a broad white-toothed grin. I feel like if Bill Gates wants to go to a hotel, this is where he would stay, it's that awesome.

"Amy, this is the Holloway family," The man who has been showing us around, Gregory the Hotel Manager, tells the front desk clerk and he says it in a terse way that says 'be nice to them or your ass is grass'. I like that, it makes me feel important.

"Oh, hello," Amy, a petite brunette girl with a smile that looks too big for her face but eyes too small for her mouth, grins even wider at us and walks from behind the counter to where we're standing to shake our hands. I smile back at her long enough to shake her hand but then I'm back to my attentive blank face. "It's so nice to meet all of you. If there is any way that I can be of assistance, please let me know."

"Get back behind the counter, we have lots of guests," Gregory scolds the poor girl but he does it with a light laugh and I think that's his way of telling us that he's a nice guy but it seems like the second we turn our heads, he's going to behead the girl.

"Yes, sir," She pants out, scurrying quickly back behind the dark wooden counter that she was standing behind earlier.

Gregory turns back to face me and my family as I notice five bellhops standing by the elevators with our stuff. We sold most of our stuff to move down here like furniture and kitchen appliances but I kept most of my stuff. Anything that I can fit into a hotel room, I stuffed into boxes or suitcases. Dylan did the exact opposite. He kept the bare minimum with his closet and some of his posters and books but everything else was gone. That child is not very sentimental.

"Now, I would love to show you guys into the back where we do all of the tough business work," He tells us. I keep looking at the bellhops though and I feel really bad for them. Granted, this is their job but I'm sitting over here with empty arms, only carrying the backpack on my back while their elbows are probably shaking with a box full of my shoes. I could help them, I should help them. It's my stuff that they're carrying.

"Actually, I don't think these guys really care about the boring business side of things," My dad speaks up, motioning to the rest of us, standing in the lobby in our sweaty clothes from traveling across the country earlier today. He's right too, I really don't care about that stuff. Once the bellhops disappear into one of the large elevators, I try to forget about it and pay attention to the conversation going on in front of me.

"Of course," Gregory responds. He's a very tall, thin man with a pointed nose and a balding head. He does seem like a really nice man yet very stressed with the job. His suit is perfectly tailored, the metallic White Cloud nametag shining proudly on the left side of his chest. Although he seems nice to me, I highly doubt that the employees feel the same way based on how passive aggressively he spoke to poor Amy. "Sherri, will you come over here, please?"