Shangri-la Hostage Situation

"If I buy 50 monkeys, is there any kind of discount you can give me?"

Perplexed.

"Do you even have 50 monkeys?"

The sales lady scrunches her nose. She scurries off to her manager. Consultation. Vigorous head nodding. "10 percent off."

"Charge it to my room, please. Could I have it delivered?"

Our incentive group was leaving in 20 minutes for a monkey-spotting safari on the Kinabatangan river. We needed a room gift, preferably one that would remind our guests of our day's adventure. So far, nothing in the handicraft market of Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia had appealed. As a last resort, we hit up the Shangri-la hotel gift shop.

Browsing:

• Wood frogs that make croaking noises when you rubbed a stick against their backs. (Every Asian market has them.)
• Mini bows and arrows with colorful feathers. (Juvenile, although reminiscent of last night's headhunter village experience.)
•  Rice candies. (No. I wanted something unique to Borneo.)

"Plush proboscis monkeys? Hmmmm. Well? Actually. . .They'll love these!"

"And you thought the bows and arrows were juvenile?" She folds her arms.

I persist. "You've got to look at it as a gag gift. We'll have them placed on the beds. When they get back tonight they'll have a laugh. Just think of the regiftability. I bet you have 5 people you could give it to when you get home. We can write cards. Something about how they were so cute that we decided to adopt. . ."

"Alright. But remember it was your idea."

---

The week passes quickly. Malaysia continues to surprise me with its landscape and warmth. Saturday morning I am also surprised by a phone call from Li, the Chi Spa receptionist.

"Mr. Chris? As a thank you for your business we would like to offer you a three-hour signature treatment. This includes a one-hour massage, and a one hour cocoa scrub finished off by an herbal bath. Please come to Chi at 10:00 a.m."

How could I refuse? My plane was at 10:30 p.m., and my only planned activity for the day was to say goodbye to guests in the lobby. A visit to the spa would be a perfect last memento of the trip.

Chi sits at the end of a palm-lined jetty. The journey to this temple of wellness is somewhat of a pilgrimage: past the pool, the volleyball net, the cabana lunch bar, the beach, and down the path and through a moon gate into a reception area that seems to exist permanently in the ending resonances of a gong or yoga bell.

"Welcome Mr. Chris. Please be seated."

There are release forms to complete, and an astrological quiz to determine my essential oil blend. I am water. I wonder if metal is better.

---

Later, in the lobby bidding farewell to our guests from Mexico.

"Mr. Bartholomew?"

A skinny man with a tucked-in shirt, close-toed shoes and a gold name badge extends his hand.

"I am Ravi, the revenue manager. I would like to offer you a drink." I had the distinct sensation that this was no courtesy call from management. The handler had been sent. I wasn't sure why.

5 minutes of platitudes, mango lassi in hand:

"I'm glad you have enjoyed your stay. We show that you have a balance of 31,330 MYR on your account. We will collect payment before you leave tonight." Suddenly warm, "And when is your flight?"

Hotels usually require 100% of estimated expenses in advance. However, they expect, and hope for, extra expenses such as drinks, meals, a projectors, spa visits, mini bar, plush monkeys. . .But most hotels wait until I get home to send the extra bill. I wondered if the hotel has implemented strict measures because of  a rash of what amounted to frequent gas station fill up and drive offs.

We talk for an hour, waiting for people to show up to the office back in Utah.

Ravi, attended hospitality school in Lausanne, Switzerland. Afterward, he worked for Marriott international in Pakistan, and then transferred to Shangri-la hotels in Malaysia. His wife and daughter live in an apartment down the street. He likes the long hours of the hospitality industry. He quit a few years ago to work for a bank. With the shorter hours he spent all his nights in a bar. At least, back in hospitality, his wife and kid know where he is at night.

I don't carry a corporate card, or a personal one with a big enough limit.  I call my supervisor. We figure it out.

On the phone, so that Ravi can hear: "The revenue manager is holding me hostage in the lobby lounge of the Shangri-la. They won't release me until the card clears." 

Ravi laughs, nervously.