By midmorning yesterday, 18 workers in the steamy laundry room of the Marriott Wardman Park, the city's largest hotel, had sorted, washed, ironed and folded 6,000 pounds of sheets, towels, tablecloths and napkins.
The workers' eyes were bloodshot, their feet ached and sweat ran across their brows as housekeepers kept dropping off more bags of dirty laundry.
Secret Service Officer Richard F. Surfield uses a Labrador retriever to check the tables in Marriott Wardman Park's main ballroom.
(Photos Susan Biddle -- The Washington Post)
|
|
"We're trying to keep up, but you've got more pressure because people are coming in with gowns and tuxes that are clean but wrinkled, and they want me to iron them," said Jean Williams, after 38 years the unofficial manager of the laundry room, as she ironed white tuxedo shirts for guests.
"You've got other events like the World Bank that used to happen here, but there's nothing quite like the inauguration," said Diego Kelly, who works in the laundry room and has been at the hotel for more than 25 years.
In the hotel's cavernous lobby, the small flower arrangement usually there was replaced by three huge urns of long-stemmed yellow roses emblematic of Texas. The lobby bar, normally filled with a handful of businessmen, bustled all day with men in cowboy boots and Stetson hats and ladies in mink coats and jeans.
In the hotel's back hallways, workers hurriedly squeezed past each other, carrying stacks of sheets and towels. Some workers who are housekeepers by day put on black tuxedos and bow ties at night to serve cocktails or dinners or room service. Accounting managers brought their children in to help run the coat checks for the inauguration-related parties. And sales managers who usually wear suits to work threw on aprons and helped place shrimp, salsa and a scoop of grits on plates.
"This is like a hotel being in a city that has a Super Bowl or a World Series," said Ed Rudzinski, the hotel's general manager. "Every blue moon, you come across an affair like this. It's not your typical meeting where guests come, check in and go to a meeting. The quality of people who come to something like this is very demanding."
The Wardman Park hotel's 1,350 rooms were mostly sold out, and it has been hosting large parties as well, including last night's Texas State Society Black Tie and Boots Ball, with 12,000 invited guests -- 2,500 more than for the 2001 inauguration.
"It's one thing to have a sold-out hotel, but then to have 12,000 guests at a party on top of it makes it extraordinary," Rudzinski said. The Wardman Park supplemented its 1,000 employees with about 500 outside security guards, bartenders, banquet waiters and stage hands, and many of its regular employees put in 10- to 15-hour days, far more than they usually work.
The crush of guests and parties can be demanding but also lucrative for the hotel and workers. The Wardman Park expects to make more than $4 million in revenue during the four-day period from Tuesday through tomorrow, according to Rudzinski. Some employees who work today will get double time. For instance, banquet waiters can make $50 an hour on inauguration day.
The possibility of a hotel workers' strike had overshadowed the build-up to the inauguration. But on Tuesday, their union approved a new, three-year contract with the 14 major downtown hotels, ending a five-month struggle. Workers at the Wardman Park expressed relief yesterday that they had avoided a strike during such a profitable time.
Workers and managers at the hotel began preparing 18 months ago, meeting with the Secret Service and D.C. Police to figure out, for instance, how to quickly get waiters with trays of shrimp cocktail and quesadillas through metal scanners. Dozens of boxes of toilet paper and cleaner were transferred to the general manager's conference room to make way for extra towels and sheets. Rowing machines and treadmills were removed from the hotel's gym so that security gear could be stored there.
Chefs had to find additional cold storage space for trays of chocolate mousse, carrot cake, cheesecakes, eclairs and cream puffs, since cases of shrimp, beef brisket, filet mignon, chicken, tortillas, bacon and avocados already filled their walk-in refrigerators.
A tent was erected at the top of the parking garage and decorated with glass chandeliers, high-backed zebra-printed couches and tables with gold, suede and sparkling silver tablecloths. A generator was used to heat the tents, although neighbors called to complain that the humming machines were keeping them up at night. "We've got to at least try to keep our neighbors happy, so remember to turn those generators off when we don't need them," hotel manager Daniel A. Nadeau said at a staff meeting to review problems.
Rudzinski thought he momentarily had a big problem, but he was able to resolve it. He heard earlier this week that Metro was going to close last night at midnight. He had asked his staff to take the Metro to alleviate congestion. Rudzinski said he convinced the organizers of the Black Tie and Boots Ball and the city's convention and visitors bureau to split the $54,000 bill it would take to keep the Metro open until 3 a.m.
"I can't control everything, but I did manage to buy the Metro for a few hours," Rudzinski said, laughing.
