The police arrive and I give them all the details about the guy. They ask me to take them up to his room and boom on the door (at this point, it is a 911 well check, combined with an invitation to GTFO). No answer. I forgot the master key, so I go back down to the front desk to get it. As I step out of the elevator, I bump into the guy; he’s wearing a dress. Stockings, heels, the whole 9. He exclaims, “Dude, there’s cops at my door!” to which I say, “Yes. They are here for you.” He asks if it’s because he invited me to watch pornos. I say, “No. It’s because you’re calling hotel guests, dialing 911, and wandering around the hotel.” No need to judge.

And for people who think numbers divisible by 10 are cool, this is comic #100.