Clothes Don't Make The Man

It was a nice sunny day in Seattle, the kind of day that says everything is all right with the world. It was kind of slow lazy afternoon at the old Inn, and I was preparing for laid back evening of work. About that time, a beautiful, new, red, Lamborghini pulled up out front. Out stepped an impeccably dressed man probably in his mid thirties or so. He was dressed in a suit that did not come from any store whose name ends in mart, and his haircut was of the hundred dollar variety. We occasionally got rich folks at the Inn, like the time I got the center for the Sonics, but it was not that common of an occurrence.

We had several suite type rooms at our Inn, so I offered this gentleman one of those, which he quickly agreed to.
I watched him climb into his red dream, and drive down to the front of his room. Sighing, and knowing that I would never in a million years be able to afford  an automobile like that, I went about preparing the desk for the rest of the night's work.

About thirty minutes later another man came into the lobby. Now, after having been around hotels for years and years, I could spot a cop, bi he undercover, FBI, or plain clothes a mile away, and sure enough, my instinct did not fail me here, either.Out came the badge in that whipping out movement that cops seem to have perfected.I was kind of surprise at this one, though, because he was a Bellevue detective, and not a Seattle officer.This was something new, and had my attention. He already knew what room that he wanted, but I was really surprised to learn that it was the room of the man of Lamborghini fame. This detective was actually real,y nice. He asked me if he could use my fax machine, and that he was going to have a search warrant faxed to him from a judge in a few minutes, and would I mind. I assured him that I was more than glad to cooperate. I was really curious by now, because I had never seen a search warrant, and I also got to hear the conversation between the detective and the judge on  the phone.

Now, this was gong to be interesting. My guest in the red dream automobile just happened to be the largest dealer of Ecstasy in the Puget Sound area. The judge quickly agreed to the search warrant, and within fifteen minutes it was coning though my fax machine. Soon, the Bellevue detective was joined by his Seattle brethren,and the search was on.
I watched as my well dressed man was hauled away in cuffs. The original detective came back to the desk to thank me for my cooperation. He told me that they had found thousands and thousands of dollars worth of Ecstasy in the room.

Hm,maybe I would have asked him if they could spare an extra one or two. I heard that they can, oh never mind.

Anyway, judging someone by the way they are dressed can be a bad thing.