Asprawl on the comfortable, but too short, hotel bed, Thaddeus Young was unwinding with some television when there was an unexpected knock at the door. “Room service!” came the muffled voice from the other side.
Confusedly, Thaddeus rolled off the bed and went to answer the door. He hadn’t ordered any room service that he knew of; him and a few teammates had eaten out after their win. He wasn’t even hungry, and he opened the door intending to tell the deliverer of the food that he had gotten the room number wrong.
However, the hotel employee seemed to be expecting Thaddeus’ line of questioning. “Let me explain this, sir,” he said as wheeled the cart into the room, a cart which contained a single covered plate and a bottle of wine. “A fine young woman saw you enter your room and was smitten. She wanted to woo you with one of your favorite dishes. On the plate you will find a card with her personal cell phone number on it, should you wish to meet her.”
Thaddeus was still puzzled. The story made some sense, but most women who were interested in NBA players didn’t play coy; they just went after what they wanted. He knew that from lots and lots of personal experience. Still, the idea of playing some kind of seduction game with an unseen woman in another hotel room was intriguing. He tipped the employee generiously and sent him on his way, then uncovered his food to see what was waiting for him. He found himself looking forward more to the promised phone number than the food itself.
When the first wafted scent hit Thaddeus nostrils, it triggered some painful, yet happy, memories deep within him. It was a cheesesteak. Authentic Philly-style. The very same sandwich that he had spent years addicted to, blowing paycheck after paycheck on the meaty, cheesy goodness. A sandwich of the sort he had not eaten in close to three years, but also a sandwich that had danced through his thoughts on a nearly daily basis in that same timeframe.
“No…I can’t…” Thaddeus moaned, his eyes lustily grazing over the perfectly-assembled delicacy. “No…no…never again…” he continued, involuntarily licking his lips. His resolve to stay cheesesteak-free was slipping; he could feel it. So, with his final ounce of resistance, he walked over to the window and wrenched it open. Then, he took the cheesesteak, plate and all, and threw it out into the Cleveland night. Several seconds later, after a drop of fifteen stories, he could hear the plate shatter.
Breathing heavily, he lay back down on the bed, covered with sweat. Strangely, it occurred to him then that he had also thrown away the card with the woman’s phone number. However, just as he did not need cheesesteaks in his life, he did not need gold-digging women in his life either, no matter how many free food items they plied him with. Nervous, scared, but also proud of his own willpower, he fell asleep there, still in his clothes.