the insider tells all - pt ii

One of my guests came to the bar and insisted on drinking the local beer, 14% proof Mutzig, by the pint (locals only take it in halves).  He got so pissed he was causing a disturbance so his girlfriend put him to bed and locked the door. 

When I got up in the morning there was police everywhere.  He'd tried to climb out over the balcony, fallen, hit his head on the ice and died. What made it worse was his girlfriend was actually his mistress, which his wife and mother found out after they flew over believing he was on a business trip.

Sad, but true.

It had been our usual Mexican night (so we could buy Tequila on budget!) and our Irish guests got even more ratted than the first few days.  They'd been a bit of a mare all round - by this stage they had already forced the wine cupboard open by kicking it in - so I didn't think it could get worse...

The next morning, my boyfriend Chris was up first and as I came down to the dining room to lay up breakfast he stopped me: 'Don't go in there!'  It turned out one of them had got so legless he had 'lost control' of himself - hopefully I don't need to explain any more.  It was disgusting.  We locked the kitchen and put a note up on the door - 'No more food will be served in this chalet until it is in a hygienic state'.  Then we went down to the valley for the day to get away.

We got back at around 3pm.  Sitting on the doorstep was the nicest bloke in the group.  God knows what he'd drunk to get to that state, but he'd waited at the chalet all day so he could apologise to us.  He was incredibly embarrassed about it and so apologetic we had to forgive him. 

That evening the rest of this group made him wear Pampers outside his trousers throughout the night.  I guess it was funny at the time, but trust me, it's things like that that make you wonder whether it's all worth it for £50 a week. 

John was trying to collect the week's ski hire payment from three lovely ladies one Saturday.   The only problem was their credit cards, which one after the other were refused.   When the third one didn't work, they got a wee bit upset and started suggesting the problem was with the machine.

Without a pause, John stared them in the eye.  "There's a bar downstairs that'll be open in a few minutes.  If you like I can go down and get some straws and you can clutch at them instead."

It started when I was doing my chalet visits, just about to sit down for dinner, when one of the girls from another chalet popped her head around the door to say that one of her guests hadn't come back yet. 

It turned out that not only was he holidaying on his own and was one of those adventurous types - all skins and pick-axes and talk of ski touring.  It didn't look good.

Firstly, we checked all the bars.  I'd heard about this sort of thing before, where they've just hooked up with someone and gone out on the booze.   There was no joy though, so we did the police, medical services, pisteurs and still nothing.  That was when it got tough.  Before we could call out Mountain Rescue we had to contact his parents and check that they would cover the costs should it turn out that he was out on a pub crawl.  A helicopter and a search team don't come cheap...

Of course they said yes.  What else would they say?   So out the search team went - and found him.  He'd lost the piste, was huddled in a piste basher. They reckon getting in there had saved his life. 

The insurance paid up, he lived, we got another set of guests the next week.  If there is a moral to the story I'm not sure what it is.  Maybe it's just a happy ending.