I’m going to America. Specifically, I’ll be organising Telco 2.0 Americas in Orlando on the 9th and 10th of December. Then, I’ve got a two-and-a-half day layover in a hotel with marching ducks. The prose is worth quoting:
In a special elevator, the five North American mallard ducks, four hens and one drake, comprising The Peabody Ducks, descend from their $100,000 penthouse Royal Duck Palace.
When the elevator doors open, The Peabody Ducks, accompanied by their crimson-and-gold- braid-jacketed Duck Master™, take up their positions on a plush red carpet and begin The March of The Peabody Orlando Ducks to the strident tones of John Philip Sousa’s King Cotton March.
They waddle their way in formation through the hotel’s marble halls, and when they reach the magnificent, orchid-crowned fountain, which takes center stage in the Atrium Lobby, the ducks mount three red-carpeted steps and splash into the fountain’s waters. Tumultuous applause reverberates through the lofty, foliage-draped lobby…
I bet it does.
Been there. Pointing at a duck and saying in a loud voice “I’ll have that one, in orange sauce please.” is not looked on favourably by the Peabody staff.
My recollection of mallards from my Wharfedale days is that they are notoriously incontinent. So how do they manage this feature?
A ruthless commitment to immediately cleaning it up, I think.