He reaches over and picks up the phone. “Hello, concierge desk. We’re busy right now.” He hangs up.
“Mr. Cosby, you can’t do that,” the concierge says, “I’ll lose my job.”
She doesn’t of course as Mr. Cosby has bought a disposable camera and has allowed the hotel staff to have their pictures taken with him. He now asks the concierge to ring the manager and get him down to the lobby for pictures.
Later that day, Mr. Cosby asks the concierge to order him a wood-fired pizza and a Newsweek. Outside his door, pizza and magazine in hand, the concierge knocks. She hears a knock back. She knocks again. Another knock back and then the door opens to reveal a grinning Mr. Cosby.
Pizza delivered, tip in hand she returns to her desk. Shortly after, Mr. Cosby appears in the lobby. Does he saunter in and chat with staff? Does he stride across as if on a mission? Does he amble through looking bored? No! He plays hide and seek, peering out from behind one of the huge plants, then scuttles to crouch behind a sofa. The concierge, the front desk staff, the girl in the gift shop giggle and play along.
Later they will tell friends and family, “It was just like being on his show.” A memory they will always treasure.