Adventures In Travel: Revenge of The Shush Patrol

Recently The Husband and I went on a weekend trip to DC. We got cheap airfare, a sweet deal on a swanky hotel, a snazzy rental car that we had to wrestle with the airport for an hour to get (that may be its own blog post later). All signs pointed toward a fantastic weekend. When we arrived at the hotel, it was late. I was tired. I was so looking forward to getting to our room and crashing. Per the ancient order of things, I went forth on my sacred wifely duty of checking into the room while The Husband waited in the car. Things were going smoothly until I saw it. A fearsome, dreadful sight that dashed my hopes of having any chance at sleep.

“Teenagers!” I cried as I jumped in the car with our room keys. “The hotel is swarming with teenagers!”

Yes, the lobby was full with a flock of teenagers, talking loudly at superhuman volume about…something. I have no idea what they were talking about. It’s partly because teenage voices tend to blend into one large tidal wave of audio force crashing down the hallways. It’s also because when I can actually pick out individual words, they don’t make any sense to me. Here’s an example of a sentence I thought I heard at one point.

“OMG, so bae was like, ‘This place is LIT like whoa.’”

Bae? Lit? Whoa? What are these words? Okay, I understand “whoa” because I’m a product of the 90’s and I remember Blossom. But unless something is on fire, how is it lit? And what the hell is bae?!

My sister-in-law is a prominent member of the teenage community. I’m sure if she were on this trip she could interpret this dialogue for me. When writing this post, I reached out to her to see if she had any ideas on what the teens in our hotel might have been talking about. She patiently responded, trying her best to translate the teenage sound wave into 30something speak.

“They were probably talking about who has been dating who and how it has been FOREVER.” (I didn’t dare ask what “forever” means to a 17 year old.) “And Snapchat,” she added. “The new Snapchat update is awful.”

I’ll have to take her word for it. I still don’t understand Snapchat in the first place. From what I’ve observed, it involves making faces at a phone, and then using the phone’s app to create even more goofy faces. This is a thing.

Anyways, our hotel was full of loud, athletic, excited teenagers who need NO SLEEP. So my cranky 30something self went to bed bracing for the worst, fully expecting to hear about bae being lit and like whoa all. Night. Long.

Then a funny thing happened. I woke up in the morning and realized I HAD ACTUALLY SLEPT. At no point in the night was I awakened by the loud teenage sonic boom that usually tears through paper thin hotel walls.

“Are they gone?” I asked The Husband. “They must have left after we checked in.”

But I looked at the window and saw their charter bus was still in the parking lot. And I nearly dropped my plate at breakfast when the full force of Loud Teenage Laughter almost knocked me down. 

“I don’t understand this,” I thought to myself. “How we were able to sleep?”

Then I noticed a series of signs posted throughout the hotel. “Welcome weekend guests,” they said. “Here’s some information you might find helpful.” The sign proceeded to list extended pool hours, breakfast information, the usual hotel fluff.

But then it got serious.

Noise will not be tolerated, it warned. You get one warning. A second warning means expulsion from the hotel.

I thought that was interesting, but what really caught my attention was toward the bottom of the sign where it stated that between certain hours the quiet would be strictly enforced. Somebody had to be out there enforcing this quiet. Our room was near the elevator, and a couple times I heard a gaggle of excited teens talking loudly about bae’s Snapchat being lit (or something), but then they would abruptly stop. Something struck fear into their hearts. Was it the sign? Doubtful. A chaperone? They didn’t appear to have any. A hotel staff member? Possibly, but I rarely saw staff outside of the lobby area. Someone must be out there enforcing the quiet. But who?

And then it hit me…this hotel must have their very own Shush Patrol. 

What is a shush patrol, you ask? Allow me to explain.

When I was a kid, my dad was a world class shusher. We’d enter a hotel and he would swing into action.

“SHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” he would bellow, violently gesturing at us to be quiet. “PEOPLE COME HERE TO SLEEP!!!”

This would continue all the way down the hall into our room. We could be walking in silence and he would still preemptively SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH from here to eternity, just in case we were thinking about making noise at some point in our lives. When we were a little older we tried pointing out the irony that his shushing was far louder than any noise we were making. He disagreed, probably because he couldn’t hear us over the sound of his own shushing.

I sent a picture of the sign to my dad, who immediately responded that he would LOVE the job of roaming the hallways shushing teenagers. As he approaches retirement age — he is counting the days —- his shushing powers have only increased. 

So I think I’ve found how to better fund retirement, y’all. Hotels should hire a team of Professional Shushers. Think of the elderly in your life who love quiet and can’t Stand Them Kids Today. This would be a dream job. They could get paid good money by grateful tired guests like me to keep the halls quiet.

“But wait, Amy,” I hear you say. “Didn’t you say earlier that the collective roar of teenagers is an unstoppable force of nature?”

No, I didn’t say that. But I could see where you could draw that conclusion based on my description of the teenage sonic boom. I would argue there is one force of nature strong enough to cut through that noise, and that is a cranky old person who wants quiet. If my dad were unleashed in a hotel now, it would be the quietest place on earth. 

You know how else the shush patrol could help? They could wield the power of embarassment. Teenagers are deathly afraid of embarassment. Your average Cranky Old Person is not only loud, but often lacking in Mind To Mouth filter. Loud teens would stop dead in their tracks at the sight of a Cranky Old Person member of the Shush Patrol for fear he might say something super weird at full volume.

Was there actually a shush patrol at the hotel? I suppose we’ll never know. Whoever the lone shushing vigilantes were that kept the hotel quiet, I’m grateful for their service. And if any hotels are looking to hire a shush patrol, let me know. My dad would be happy to train and lead the team.