Some years earlier, I was working the front desk of a hotel on a nondescript Friday evening. An individual by the name of Bob Rush was checking in and as I was processing his credit card, I noticed he was wearing a ring that had the ace of spades playing card on it. I look up and it's indeed, the legendary Ace Frehley. Remaining professional, I finish his check-in and process his (yes, this is true) AAA discount and hand him his room key. I let him know if he needs anything, to give me a call at the desk. Several hours later, a haggard-looking woman who was probably hot in about 1975 comes in and asks me to ring Bob Rush's room. She then proceeds upstairs to join him. As I'm still trying to process the fact that my girlfriend is better looking than Ace Frehley's, his crew arrives and checks in. Apparently, they're in town for a show at the Birch Hill that Sunday.
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. I get to work around 11:00 and am almost immediately accosted by Ace's road crew. Ace needs some beer and some booze, and he needs it with all speed. The bar/lounge is closed Sundays so I go in there and grab a case of Heineken and a bottle of Jack and bring it out to the crew. They tell me they'll be right back with payment. The hotel manager is nearby so I tell him what I've done for our celebrity guest and ask what I should charge them, figuring we'll bill them for packaged goods. He explains to me as they don't have a license to sell packaged goods, they have to ring everything up individually as if they're in the bar. Comes to $136. I figure "what the hell, it's Ace Frehley, this won't faze him." Wrong. His flunkies arrive at the desk a few minutes later and tell me they HAVE NO MONEY, but are willing to exchange memorabilia for the beer and liquor. They hand me the copy of "Love Gun" I'd brought in, which my friend Mitch had given me and asked me to have Ace sign for him. Well it's signed all right - "Dear John, thanks for the stuff - Ace." I guess he won't want this one back, guess I'm buying him a new CD. He also brings down a bunch of picks, a drawing of the ace of spades doodled on a hotel sketch pad, and a backstage pass they say is good for the entire tour. I have no idea what to do, I've told them a few times I need cash, they say they don't have it, and have already gone through half the alcohol, so they can't return it. Eventually, I take the stuff and they leave. Now I'm in the hole for $136 out of pocket (I was making $9 an hour.) I explain what happened to the hotel manager, and after fixing me with his best "you're an idiot" stare, he agrees to ring it up as a steward's sale as if he brought it home himself, and I'm only liable for about $50. As he prepares to depart for the day, he tells me that it's past checkout time and that Frehley and crew need to be removed from the honeymoon suite they're hanging out in. I call up and they tell me Ace needs to hang out for a bit before the show. Manager says no chance and tells me I have to go evacuate the room. Now I don't know what to do - go up there and evict one of my boyhood idols or defy the manager? I choose the latter and tell the manager that I'd done the deed, knowing the guy was out for the day in a few minutes. He leaves without incident and I call back to the room telling them they need to get out sooner rather than later. About 30 mins later, the gaggle comes downstairs, thanks me, and departs for the show, telling me Ace (and only Ace) is still in the room sleeping, and they'll be back for him after they set up at the venue. About 15 minutes later, I hear the Spectravision printer at work. When someone orders an in-room movie, a dot matrix printout comes up at the desk after 5 minutes, and we manually post the charge to the guest room. A couple minutes later, I hear it again. Then, a few minutes later, again. Ace has ordered all 3 porn channels simultaneously at $9.99 a piece. Now I'm panicking because I've already closed out his folio as "proof" to the manager that I booted him out. I yank the printout from the printer, crumble it up and throw it away, hoping it won't come back on me at the end of the month when they reconcile with the Spectravision bill. I quickly turn his phone and movie privileges off (should have done that earlier) and hope this is the end of it. Nope. An hour or so later, the newlyweds who have the honeymoon suite for that night arrive. Oops. I have to tell them the room isn't quite ready (even though it's about 6 PM by now) and give them a key to a standard room, telling them I'll ring them when the suite is ready. They grumble a bit, but shuffle off. OK. Gotta get Ace out of here - besides, the show is at 7:30, he's got to be leaving soon. I can't leave the desk unattended, so I call the room. No answer. Another call, no answer.
Mercifully, not long afterward, one member of his crew returns to pick up Ace. Thank God. There's no housekeeping crew at this point, so I have to wait for the girl who comes in at 7:00 to arrive (any minute now) so I can leave the desk and go prepare the room for the newlyweds. She arrives a few minutes later and I sprint up to 402 and open the door. Are they gone? No. The room looks like... well, a rock star stayed in it. There's #### everywhere. Drug residue, empty booze bottles, the place REEKS of smoke of various origins.... and to boot, a nude Ace Frehley is passed out cold in the hot tub. When I say passed out, I mean COMATOSE. His roadie can't come close to waking him up or getting him to move. At first, I think he's dead and imagine the headline the next day : "Former KISS guitarist found dead in NJ hotel suite, moron desk clerk provided murder weapon !" The roadie is in a panic and begs me to help him extricate and clothe Ace. I have no clue how this guy is going to play a show in a half-hour, but that's not my primary concern at the moment. I go up the steps to the hot tub and grab an arm and between us, we manage to hoist him out, still unconscious. The roadie asks me to hold him upright while he gets some clothes. Meanwhile, back at the desk, the honeymooners have come back down to find someone new at the desk. They ask if the honeymoon suite is ready. My co-worker, who knows nothing of what's going on (by design), checks the board and finds the room marked "Ready," exactly as I was forced to display it for the managers' benefit. She hands them the key.
Back to the honeymoon suite. I'm holding a swaying Ace upright, wet and naked, as the roadie starts grabbing clothes. Ace is about 1% conscious at this point, which is good, because I'm barely able to hold him up and avoid coming into contact with Little Ace simultaneously (this is a very high priority for me at the moment.) As the roadie heads towards me with clothes, Ace's legs go out entirely. His dead weight leans on me, and I'm too close to the top step. I go down the steps, still holding Ace's upper body, and the two of us go down the steps onto the floor. Just then, the door opens and the honeymooners walk in just in time to see me in my uniform, on the floor, with a stark naked Ace Frehley on top of me, dripping wet. The bride screams and they pull the door shut. Eventually, we manage to get Ace upright (I could have said erect, but under the circumstances, I chose a different word) and dressed and out the door. It took me an hour and a half to clean the room, and I had to explain in detail to the honeymooners everything that had transpired. Luckily, the groom was a huge KISS fan and I gave him an autographed pick and asked him not to rat me out to management. No one ever noticed (or at least called me out on) the missing Spectravision bills and the manager and other desk clerk never knew what had transpired.
I never used the backstage pass.
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