ARCTIC OBITER

20 | ARCTIC OBITER
MISTAKEN IDENTITY
Who do you think you are?!
by Douglas Mah
I can well understand the indignation that Henry Louis
Gates Jr. felt upon being accosted by Cambridge Police in
July, while he was trying to break into his own house. The
famed Harvard black studies academic and Obama buddy
was asked by officers to produce identification to prove he
was indeed the residence's owner. In the ensuing fracas,
Gates was arrested for disorderly conduct. The charges were
later dropped, but not before the Harvard scholar's unhappy
mug photos were showcased in the news.
My own, somewhat less dramatic version of this incident
occurred when I checked into the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in
Montreal a few years ago. I don't like reciting my name and
contact information in public, so my practice is to hand over
my driver's license so the information can be Transposed. I
took this precaution after a friend described how she had
chirped off her name and email address in a public place,
and later found herself the victim of stalking.
I dumped my bag off in my room, changed into my workout
gear, and headed to the gym. When signing in at the desk,
the attendant looked at my name and room number, checked
the computer, and informed me that I was not shown as
registered in that room. She surmised that as I had only
checked in a few minutes ago, the data had not been
updated and told
me to
straighten it out with the front desk
after my workout, lest there be later
problems.
This is when my troubles began. I produced my card key to
the front desk, gave my name, and explained that the hotel's
computer somehow had the wrong person registered in my
room. I was then told in no uncertain terms that I was not a
registered guest in the hotel. Hotel security was summoned,
so I could be questioned and account for how I had obtained
an activated card key. The most annoying aspect of this
entire exchange was that it was with the same front desk
clerk who had checked me in scarcely an hour earlier.
I didn't fare a whole lot better with the security guy. He
asked me for ID. I explained that my ID was in the room. If
we went into the room, all my stuff would be there,
including my wallet with my ID in it, proving that I was
who I said I am. The security agent told me he had no
authority to enter another guest's room without that guest's
permission. I explained that there was no other guest, that
the only guest in the room was me.
The upshot of this discussion was that I was an
unauthorized person in the hotel who had somehow gotten
hold of a room key. I had a choice: either leave the hotel
immediately, or await the arrival of police, who would deal
with me on trespass and suspicion of theft and attempted
break-and-enter (of my own room). Why I would
present myself to the hotel front desk before carrying
out the break-and-enter had yet to be pondered.
When one is in another city and has nowhere else
to go, with one's money, clothes and
identification effectively impounded, and
wearing only shorts and a work-out top (did I
mention it was November?) the prospect of being
tossed out on the street, or worse, imprisoned in a
Kafka-like manner, is distressing.
The front desk clerk and security agent were whispering