FAWLTY TOWERS LOBBY
The door swings open, and Frank and Estelle Costanza stomp into the lobby. Frank looks like he’s already in a bad mood, while Estelle has that wide-eyed, disapproving glare she reserves for anything less than perfection.
Frank: (to Estelle) "I told you, Estelle, this is the last time we’re going on vacation. I’m too old for this! I can’t believe I’m here, and why is it so hot in here?"
Estelle: (gesturing to the lobby) "It’s a dump, Frank. The place is a dump. Look at the floor! It’s filthy!"
Basil: (from behind the counter, in his usual condescending tone) "Can I help you, madam? Or should I start by asking if you’ve misplaced your sense of decorum?"
Estelle: "Excuse me? Who are you, and why do you look like that?"
Basil: (forcing a smile, looking Estelle up and down) "I’m Basil Fawlty. The owner of this fine establishment, and if you’re here for some kind of luxury, you’ve come to the wrong place, madam."
Frank: (interrupting) "Don’t get smart with me, pal. I just want a room, and I want it now. You got any rooms that don’t smell like old socks?"
Basil: (to Frank, through gritted teeth) "Old socks, you say? Well, we’ve got rooms that smell like old socks, new socks, and even some socks that are mysteriously missing. Take your pick."
Estelle: (sniffing) "What’s that smell? It smells like... like something died in here. I’m going to complain about this."
Basil: "Yes, madam. I’m sure you will. If you’d like, I can have the ‘death’ moved to a more convenient location for you."
Frank: (scanning the room) "I’m not staying here! I’ll go to another place! This place is a disgrace!"
Basil: (calmly) "Of course, sir. But let me remind you: no one will appreciate your absence quite as much as we will."
Estelle: (grabbing Frank by the arm) "Frank, don’t let him talk to you like that!"
Frank: (fuming) "I’m gonna get a manager. I’m gonna report this place to the BBB, the FBI, the whole—"
Basil: (cutting him off) "Oh, please, don’t. I have a condition. Every time I hear ‘the FBI,’ I think someone’s about to get arrested. And frankly, I’d prefer it was you."
Estelle: (sniffing in disdain) "This is ridiculous. I’m going to the spa. Do they have a spa here, or do you just roll around in the dirt?"
Basil: (sarcastic) "Oh, yes, madam. We have a world-class spa where you can roll around in dirt. But only on special occasions. You’ll have to schedule an appointment."
Frank: (grumbling) "Unbelievable. I don’t know how you stay in business. Your staff is incompetent, the rooms are a disaster, and I—"
Basil: (suddenly interrupting, turning to Manuel) "Manuel! Get these... fine people to their room!"
Manuel looks terrified, nodding vigorously, and in his usual panic, he addresses Basil with exaggerated politeness.
Manuel: (looking around, flustered) "Si, señor Fawlty! I show them room. Right away!"
Manuel hesitates for a moment, clearly nervous, before pointing them toward the stairs.
Manuel: "Please, this way, señor and señora! Uh, careful—head low! The ceiling... it’s very... low!"
As they begin to leave for the stairs, Estelle mutters to Frank.
Estelle: "I can’t believe I married you, Frank."
Frank: "Oh, stop it, Estelle. I’m doing the best I can. This place stinks."
Basil: (muttering to himself as he watches them go) "I’d say ‘enjoy your stay,’ but that would be... well, highly optimistic."
