It was late, way past midnight. We had descended upon Orbey, a quiet little town in Alsace France, near the German border. We were loud, that's for sure, there on business and taking full advantage of the brilliant local rieslings and great food. We arrived at our small exclusive hotel after a staggeringly raucous stroll through the cobblestone streets. Chet, an ex-baseball player, had been forming various martial arts poses at points along our way, and we were all juiced up about that. We walked up to the glass-encased lobby. A foursome of locals were playing cards at a table inside. They must have heard us coming for blocks. Chet belched loudly and grabbed the doorknob. It was locked. We had apparently missed the hotel's curfew.
The people at the table didn't move, or seem to notice us. Chet, never subtle, started banging on the window. Still nothing.
After a while, the light in the lobby turned off. It was on a motion sensor and these four card players weren't moving much. One old man at the table got up and walked towards the door. This was our chance, he would finally let us in. Perhaps they were deaf.
But instead of opening the door, now just inches from him, he just stopped and waved his arm to get the light back on. Back he went to his seat without so much as a smirk in our direction, and the card game resumed.
This infuriated Chet beyond all reason. Just as he was about to break the window with his fist, the manager showed up and let us in with an evil glare.
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