The Dangerous Phone in the Lobby

Denton Texas, 1964: At the Holiday Inn, my roommate Pat was the dining-room host, and I was the bellboy. We both took Spanish class, so we practiced by insulting the guests sitting in the booths. (“Yo pienso que este hombre es un burro con arreyos largos.” … “Si, yo tambien.”)

This generally worked pretty well, as the guests generally didn’t speak Spanish. One day, however, the guest spoke Spanish very well and, well, that was the end of our Spanish practice.

But back to the dangerous payphone in the lobby. The first dangerous thing was that it was installed only a few steps away from Pat’s station in the coffee shop.

The second dangerous thing was that its phone number was very similar to the phone at McConnell Hall, the large women’s dormatory.

Because if the payphone rang, it meant somebody was trying to reach the front office at the girls dormitory, and that also meant that Pat could answer “McConnell Hall,” and the callers believed they were speaking with the girl’s dormitory. After all, they’d called the dorm, and the dorm office had answered.

This was a source of endless delight to us.

Ring, ring! went the phone, mid-day. Pat answered, “McConnell Hall.”

“Is Gracie Smith there?” asked the caller, an older-sounding woman.

“No,” Pat said, “She checked out to return home due to an illness, a week ago.”

“What?!” exclaimed the caller. “This is her mother! She’s not here! What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry,” Pat said, “That’s what she told us. Do you want to leave a message, in case she returns to school?”

“You bet there is!” said Mom, “You tell her to call her mother immediately!”

“Will do,” said Pat.

Or, in another case, early on Saturday night, Ring, ring! went the phone. Pat answered, “McConnell Hall.”

“Sally Jones, please,” a guy asked.

“Sorry,” Pat said, “She went out on a date.”

“What?”, screamed the boy, “What do you mean a date? Sally Jones?”