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  • Paul Davidson

I Can Eat Stuff Out Of Your Mini-Bar And You’ll Never Know

The training has paid off.

I can eat stuff out of your mini-bar (you over-charging hotel, you) and you will never know before it is too late and I am too far gone for you to find me, charge me or chastise me.

It has taken me years to perfect such talents but after the “Unwrapping and Rewraping Incident of 1996” in which I successfully opened up all my holiday presents to determine what they were (and that I was spending the right amount on presents for the rest of the family) then rewrapped them and returned them to the trunk of you-know-who’s car without anyone figuring out, I can confidently tell you that I am a black belt in the art of unwrapping, consuming and then replacing without any of the cleaning staff even halfway hip to my game.

I can take a box of Good n’ Plenty, use the nail file portion of my nail-clippers to slowly separate the top flap from the glue that has kept the box closed and safe inside the mini-bar, pour out the entire contents of said Good n’ Plenty container into my mouth, chew voraciously, then take a handful of push pins that I have surprisingly found in my suitcase, pour them back into the box, seal it up with a little bit of wax that I have melted off of the candles that I have, too, found from my suitcase, then replace it into it’s home away from home and never sweat a second over anyone finding out.

I can take a King Size Twix wrapper, open the end gingerly and carefully and suck the four Twix bars out and into my mouth, chewing with purpose, and then reach into my suitcase and pull out four pieces of carefully measured and cut cardboard – which I then tape into circular rods of sorts, replacing them back into the Twix wrapper, which causes the wrapper to keep it’s shape and appear completely untouched as I replace the candy from wherest it oncest camest.

I can take a bottle of spring water from the mini-bar’s fridge, drink the entire contents and then fill it back up in the bathroom sink just as easily as I can take a bottle of apple juice, chug it until there’s nothing left and then visit the bathroom to, well, fill it up with a similar color substance.

I can do all these things, and never get caught.

Sure, there are people in the world of unnoticed unwrapping and wrapping that would challenge me to an unwrappathon. They would shove skewed packaged items in my face and challenge me to unwrap them, consume the contents and rewrap them without anyone noticing what I have done. They would tell me how they’d previously succeeded in the unwrapping and wrapping of things like Skittles, Snickers bars, Wacco Wafers, Abba Zabba Taffy, a can of Coca Cola and a see-through package of peanuts.

I would simply point them to Room 1218 at the W Hotel in New York City. Where, to this day, approximately twenty-two items appear to be stocked and ready for eating in the mini-bar. But alas, there is nothing but thumbtacks, chalk, water, cardboard, Advil tablets and everyday plastic shower washers in that mini-bar. Mind you, at first glance you’d never be able to tell…

Then again, that’s why I am known (in the underground) for such skills.

I’m not proud of it. I’m not necessarily bragging about it. But I am making all of you aware to the fact that, in reality, I can eat stuff out of your mini-bar and you’ll never know.

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